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•Sf'CvissiJr 


W. THOMAS CARDEN 



/ 

THE SQUASH 
FAMILY 


a of a iKptIfohiot Pr?arl|jpr 



BY 


MAJOR TOM NOODLE 


Autljnr jpf **K MttrU Jfark/’ Hntnlb 

Sfafalrb/* “Qltff Olnr^jB? unh King iFallarg,” 
an5 mittBr Btnrt^B. 


ADDRESS ALL ORDERS TO 

W.: THOMAS CARDEN 

PULASKI, TENN. 


o 




lI'BARY of (K)N6R£S^ 

» 

iwo Sopres rteceivou 

S£P SO 1905 

Me- #7, 

«t/ AA& fSoi 

oupy li- 



dnpgrt^Iit 1905 by 
W. THOMAS CARDEN 


ifjitratwn 


My best friend refusing the honor I herewith tender 
to my enemies my best wishes and I trust the perusal 
of this book will lessen their contumely and asperity. 

- This volume is therefore affectionately inscribed to 
all who have aught against THE AUTHOR. 


LEBANON, TENNESSEE 
PRESS OF THE LEBANON DEMOCRAT 
1905 


iEntr? Noua 


‘‘Once upon a time that is the usual way to 
begin a yarn— a small girl was quarreling with a 
diminutive masculine admirer. “We have a acre of 
watermelons, and, if you don^t hush and let me alone, 
you sha'n't have any,’^ she said, offering a feminine 
mode of truce. “Thetis nuthinM I don^t want eny. 
One melon is an acher — when it’s green; I know,” 
said the youthful philosopher. So I feel that either 
reading or writing a preface is painful and I dispense 
with the undertaking by presenting a few remarks. 
I had rather given my readers a nuncupative bless- 
ing anyway. Books must be written to help keep the 
tree of knowledge flourishing and to relieve the 
drear monotony of existence. Nobody knows every- 
thing. There is much to be known. The knowledge 
of the wisest is limited. The human mind is finite. 
Actually there are a few things that I do not know. 
There are several things that I do not want to know. 
I know that I know what I do know. I know that 
I do not know what I do not know. Who knows 
what I know? There is no knowing. Who knows 
what I do not know? I do not know. I know that 
I did not know that I did not know anything until I 
knew that I did not know anything. Ah, my nose to 
know whether or no I have this right! I do not 
know whether I know that I knew I knew or whether 
I know that I knew I did not know that I did not 
know or whether I did not know that I did not 


know or whether I did not know that I knew I did 
not know. I want to know. 

Of this book you may know — by reading it. It 
records many real incidents. '‘The first sermon in 
town,’’ "The mountain wedding,” "Baptizing in- 
fants,” and many other experiences actually hap- 
pened. It is a veritable ollapodrida. 

This unpretentious work was written in twelve 
days, but it took about five years to compile the data. 

I do not admit the full integrity of the history. 
Yet it is a counterpart of my experience and ob- 
servation and coincides with the career and agrees 
with the life of others. Therefore it pictures scenes, 
amusing and pathetic, of a minister’s family. I do 
not deny being a minister’s son. I am proud of the 
fact. I appreciate this task of holding the curtains 
back to reveal the real people. 

I am compelled to work with my head to keep above 
the tide, as I am physically unable to perform manual 
labor. Perhaps several excuses could (and should) 
be made for the imperfections of this volume. I pre- 
fer to promise to do better. An eleemosynary subject 
I once knew, while visiting at my grandfather’s one 
day was questioned by him, in his usual charitable 
way, anent her condition. She answered in these 
words: "We air gittin’ long very well, ’Square, I 
rec’on. Mr. Squint gave us some meat t’other day. 
But the most of it was fat and the most of it was 
lean. We eat the most of it and thro wed the most of 
it away. Wouldn’t mind a leetle of yore meat, how- 
sumever. ’ ’ 

That’s this preface. You may read it or not as 
you choose, but you will have to read it to know this. 
The idea also applies to the book. 


I am a human— a white human. My mother was 
a woman— a good woman, the best one in the world, I 
think. I owe much to her that is good. The bad 
belongs to the human side. 

So much for that. I trust I am doing my duty in 
the world. Are you! Respectfully, 

MAJOR TOM NOODLE. 

Pulaski, Tenn., July 10, 1905. 






Chapter One. page 

Family History 13 

Chapter Two. 

‘Hke Squash, Preacher 20 

Chapter Three. 

The First Sermon in Town 27 

Chapter Four. 

Starvation Circuit 35 

Chapter Five. 

The First Year 41 

Chapter Six. 

Causes and Sequences 47 

Chapter Seven. 

The Squashes in General 51 

Chapter Eight. 

Death and Accidents 55 ■ 

Chapter Nine. 

In the City 61 

Chapter Ten. 

Out of Difficulties into Others 67 

Chapter Eleven. 

Miscellaneous Episodes 74 

Chapter Twelve. 

Playmates and Scrapes 80 


Chapter Thirteen. page 

The Way the Ball Winds 85 

Chapter Fourteen. 

Pastoral Duties 93 

Chapter Fifteen. 

Pastoral Duties (continued) 98 

Chapter Si^cteen. 

Promotion and Kindred Changes 103 

Chapter Seventeen. 

Ravelings Ill 

Chapter Eighteen. 

School Incidents 115 

Chapter Nineteen. 

An Unlucky Chapter 121 

Chapter Twenty. 

Uncle Peter's Lecture on Women 125 

Chapter Twenty-One. 

Uncle Peter's Philosophy 131 

Chapter Twenty-Two. 

In Evil Paths 135 

Chapter Twenty-Three. 

As the Shuttle Flies 141 

Chapter Twenty-Four. 

Two Soldiers 147 

Chapter Twenty-Five. 

A Model School 150 

Chapter Twenty-Six. 

The Raven's Croak 155 

Chapter Twenty-Seven. 

The Pursuit of Happiness 160 


Chapter Twenty-Eight. page 

The Glass We See Through -164 

Chapter Twenty-Nine. 

Away from Home 169 

Chapter Thirty. 

Sequalae 173 


S>q«aal| Jamtly 


CHAPTER I. 

Family History, 

A family history must be chronicled, and fate has 
decreed that I essay the task because of my literary 
proclivities. I am aware that my reputation will be 
jeopardized; but I trust a forbearing public will be 
lenient toward me for attempting the imposed duty— 
and my reputation, being more presumptuous than 
stable, I pray, may survive the ordeal. Hence, I 
begin the herculean job, because I realize that family 
prestige deserves to live in history, and posterity will 
rise up and call me blessed for the monumental 
good I did the world— and our family. All the 
data at my command, out of which to construct a 
narrative, is what memory will afford me. And, as 
memories are not reliable — at least mine is not — there 
is apt to be egregious and palpable disconnections, 
omissions, and impartiality. Besides, I never Imew 
all— and this is not intended to be an exhaustive 
work, except, perchance, it may exhaust the reader’s 
patience, and, of course, that would not be intention- 
al. Another item and I will launch out upon a hair- 
pulling trial of writing a biography, something I have 
never done, except when the subject was dead and 
not related to me. Biographies are generally written 
of very dead people, to revive the great and glorious 


14 The Squash Family, 

lives’’ in the minds and hearts of their countrymen 
and enemies. 

(I will complete the usual prefatory essentials soon 
I hope, for I tire at such beginnings as this of any- 
thing of a literary color or character. But writing a 
family history, you know— no, you do not know, un- 
less importunities, imprecations, and incessant de- 
mands and commands of kith and kin, and family — 
confound family history anyway; I wish that I had 
never had to write one— and family pedigree^ compell- 
ed you— and, then, God pity you ! Well, it is different 
when writing a /amiii/- history of the deeds and 
faults — no virtues— of a distinguished family, and 
the family is yours. You do not know my family or 
you would not blame me from shivering and shrinking 
from the piece of work, for everything must please 
everybody.) 

I would prefer that this was a treatise on the his- 
tory of the vegetable of the same name. It is simply 
a few sharps and flats in the career of, and family 
of, a minister who has eaten seven miles length of 
chicken necks — therefore a Methodist preacher. Rev. 
Isaac Squash, my honored sire. The history will deal 
principally of the members of our immediate family, 
so I will not say much about the other Squashes — 
but will conflne myself to one variety. This history, 
also, will pertain mainly to my father’s ministerial 
career, so I wdll not trouble about happenings prior 
to it, to any great extent, else I might get into 
trouble, and that is the very thing that I am trying 
to get out of. 

Father was born and reared upon the distressing 
plane of poverty, which the uncivil strife between the 


The Squash Family. 


15 


States entailed upon hitherto affluent denizens in some 
portions of the South. His father gauged young 
Isaac’s energies into practical manual grooves, until 
the young man resolved to start life for himself at an 
early period. Although possessed of but a rudimen- 
tary knowledge of the elementary English branches, 
he secured and taught a school, and remained a 
pedagogue for some years on the reputation he estab- 
lished the first session of the Spunky school. He met 
a rosy-cheeked, country maiden, about this time, who 
was named Susanna Salt. Her father was wealthy. 
After much parental opposition young Squash won 
the heart and hand of his Salt girl, and they made a 
Gretna Green culmination of a somewhat romantic 
courtship — the courtship is another history, and con- 
found another history or any history ; I will not try 
to write it. Esquire Salt’s wrath knew not latitude 
or longitude upon receipt of the news. Nothing 
would appease his anger, and he remained surly until 
the cold, icy hand of death touched some of the 
flowers that grew in the rosemary of his heart. 

At this juncture it would not be amiss to describe 
my father’s appearance. He was far from being 
handsome. (My uncomeliness is hereditary). One 
eye was higher than the other, and still remains that 
way, although he has always averred that it is a mis- 
take people make: one eye is lower than the other. 
I hardly know which is correct. I suppose that it is 
a case of where both statements could be true when 
diametrically opposed. I know of a parallel case. A 
gentlemen ordered an Irish man servant to bring him 
a pair of riding boots from another room, and re- 
marked that there were two pairs together and for 


16 


The Squash Family, 


him to get mates. The Hibernian returned in a few 
moments with odd boots. 

These are not alike, donT you seeT’ the man said, 
out of patience as he was in a hurry. ‘‘One has a 
longer top than the other ! ’ ’ 

“You are right about it, bejabbers,^’ replied the 
Irishman, apologetically, “but, bedad, the other pair 
was the same way, too.’’ 

To resume the description. My father’s complex- 
ion was sallow^, a characteristic of the family and the 
vegetable. The hair was a sorrel color. The eyes 
were like unto those of a gander. He was a small 
man. He w^ore a cotton-rope-like, dingy mustache. 
All but his looks were passable. He was energetic, 
ambitious, progressive, fixed in habits, agreeable in 
manners, and very social. In his way he was very 
popular with everyone. His clothing hung loosely 
upon him, never fitting him. His attire, before and 
long after marriage, consisted of either a superfine 
hat or costly vest, jeans pants, a seersucker coat in 
summer and a cheap store coat in winter, a paper 
collar and a “shoo-fiy,” with the “shoo-fiy” bot- 
tomside up the most of the time, and a pair of bro- 
gan shoes, blacked with soot from the bottom of one 
of his mother’s pots, mixed with the yolk of egg. And 
he rode an old sleepy, mouse-colored mule, named 
David— but the mule was not as sweet tempered as 
the prophet of olden days: he was of Spanish extrac- 
tion and favored hostilities at all times. 

Father gleaned about all he ever knew from ex- 
perience and observation— two good teachers. Pro- 
jects and failures of others taught him as an example, 
yet he was original and rarely imitative. He was a 


The Squash Family. 


17 


tiller of the soil, honest and hopeful, yet negligent 
of the call to the ministry. He baffled for years 
against odds and difficulties, every undertaking prov- 
ing a failure. His first-born, a daughter, died when 
a year and a half of age; also, the fourth child, a 
son, was ruthlessly snatched away by death when an 
infant. 

My mother was of the ante bellum regime— a 
proud Southern woman of noble parentage. She was 
a person of good sense, pious deportment, and a 
strict lover of home. She considered her duty to be, 
to give her life to her husband and children. She 
did all of her domestic and household duties unas- 
sisted. 

I, Joab Squash, am the oldest living child. I will 
desist in giving a detailed account of myself at the 
opening of this history— that word history again: I 
shall be deathly sick of it ere I use it the last time. 
Suffice it to say that I was about ten or eleven years 
of age when father began preaching and I possessed 
the Squash attributes of beauty; namely, white hair, 
pale blue eyes, and zanthic color, and bashfulness. I 
was bashful almost to the degree of greenness. Well, 
I was verdant and have not fully ripened until this 
good time. It was not exactly a greenish condition— 
but I did look green enough— but a result of force 
of circumstances and environments; ill health, ignor- 
ance of the ways of life and being untutored in its 
precepts and requirements. 

There are six of the Squash children at present. The 
next one to me is Lycurgus— a reticent, demure, deco- 
rous, cunning, grave, deceitful boy. Physically he was 
a fine Squash— robust and olive cheeked. 


18 


The Squash Family. 


The next Squash was a boy. His name is a pecu- 
liar one in general and somewhat singular in par- 
ticular. By inadvertence on pater Squash's part 
and rank ignorance on filos Squash’s part, the child 
was given the appropriate name of Ostrich, which 
as a matter of course wdth names became abbrevi- 
ated to Os. I do not doubt the propriety of the 
designating title. He happened to secure the name in 
this manner : My parents were dilatory about giving 
the baby a name. No name suited their fancy— and 
every Squash must be suited in fancy. They became 
more and more negligent in regard to the matter and 
for no better name we fell into the pernicious habit 
folk sometimes do under like circumstances, and we 
called him ‘^Babe” for twelve months. One day fath- 
er decided to give him some name, any name, in 
fact, just so the boy had a name. He was prepar- 
ing to leave home for a few days and was at the 
front gate when he made the final dcision. He called 
to mother : ^ ^ Susanna, I am going to name that child 
once for all. We will call him Oscar. Do you hear? 
That is as good a name as any. Joab, you write it 
in the Bible, in the family record.” 

I was a precocious lad and I had egotism until it 
stank. (I have long since learned— the more I knew 
I knew— that I did not know scarcely anything at 
that time, and have not learned much since. ) I mis- 
understood the name. The last school that I had 
attended before my new brother’s advent into this 
great, round world, I had learned to spell the word 
ostrich. AVhat kind of animal, being or state of 
being, it was I had not the remotest idea. But it 
was high sounding to me and I was forever and anon 


The Squash Family, 


19 


spelling the word. I understood the name for my 
brother to be my favorite word and I accordingly 
transcribed it under births in the Bible family record. 

Father laughed good naturedly when he knew the 
mistake, and said : ^ ^ Let it go, as the child swallows 
everything it can get into its mouth— buttons, tacks, 
marbles, corn, dirt, and leather— the name is 
suitable. If the name had remained Oscar it would 
have been shortened to Os, anyway. As it is, it will 
be. Os, still.’’ 

Shakespeare has said what is there in a name, a 
rose would smell as sweet if it had another name. 
So after all, it is just the same, the baby would 
smell just as sweet named Ostrich as if it had been 
named Oscar. 

The baby’s most important feature was its voracity. 
He was forever and eternally eating. He even kept his 
mouth filled with his dirty, chubby fists when he could 
not get anything else. He was of a mild tempera- 
ment and had a dominant grin spread over his face, 
and was quiet— this was an accommodation to the 
family of nights. 

The next Squash was a girl upon whom was be- 
stowed the affectionate appellation of Martha. 


The Squash Family. 21 

porch, and a shed room which was used to cook and 
eat in. 

Reverses of fortune had placed Isaac Squash at the 
bottom of the ladder again— perhaps it was the hand 
of Providence inflicting punishment for his disobedi- 
ence to the call to preach. He had begun anew, 
but for a year or so he could not make any progress, 
and he yielded to the call. The announcement pass- 
ed from lip to lip that Ike Squash had turned 
preacher. There was much comment following it. 
Some was good; some bad; and some middling. A 
few were surprised. Some opposed. Some were en- 
couraging. 

Uncle Peter Squash, father’s oldest brother, led 
the van of opposition, and appointed himself a com- 
mittee of one to wait upon Ike and influence him to 
desist in the undertaking. Uncle Peter was an old 
widower. He was unlettered, erratic, stubborn, and 
biased. He was a member of the hardshell Baptist 
church— his choice. He could not be convinced 
against his will. Uncle Peter worked hard for his 
sustenance and objected to others living without la- 
boring like he did. He had set views anent church 
polemics and polities, and ministers. Uncle Peter’s 
objections only strengthened father’s determination 
to preach. ^Hke, shucks on gentlemen, (his favorite 
by-word) I tell ye, it is the biggest piece of non- 
sense I ever her’n tell of fer ye to be a bellerin’ 
eround tryin’ to preech. I’ll be ashamed to own ye 
fer a brother, knowin’ ye air goin’ eround preechin’ 
fer money. Thet’s all a Methodist preecher does. 
Ye don’t heve to do it. I kin help ye some ef ye air 
tired of hard work and air discouraged, so ye kin 


22 


The Squash Family. 


git along. Tain^t right and ’tain’t Scriptur’ to 
preech fer money. The Book says to nuther take to 
nur add from and not to fleeck the flock. Shucks on, 
Ike, I’m sorry ye cackleated to do it. I alius 
thought ye had more sense thin thet.” 

‘‘Peter, you know that I am not going to preach 
for money. I have heard all I care to hear from you 
on that subject. I intend doing my duty if I 
starve,” said father. 

“Well, I wouldn’t preech without I wus paid fer 
it; but I wouldn’t preech fer money. Bein’ as ye 
air set erbout it and will not take my advice, I say 
God bless ye, but I do pity Susanna and the pore 
little uns. I hope the Lord’ll pervide, but ye would 
be pervided fer much better ef ye would work fer it. 
But ye Methodists ain’t Scrip tur’ nohow, and I’ve 
done my duty towards ye, so I leave the bizness with 
ye,” said Uncle Peter, his nasal twang more pro- 
nounced than commonly. 

At that time it was Methodist usage, that candidates 
for license to preach, were granted license by the 
quarterly conference, instead of the district conference 
as at the present time. Rev. I’m A. Granny was the 
presiding elder of our district at that time, and the 
night before the conference that authorized father to 
preach, convened, he spent at our humble home. We 
had never had so great a dignitary as guest and the 
whole family were flustrated. After diligently in- 
quiring into the graces, virtues and qualifications of 
my father for the holy office, and catechising and 
admonishing the candidate for license, with a face as 
long as a sum in partial payments, the old maidish eld- 
er, who was a bachelor of uncertain age, expressed a 


The Squash Family, 


23 


desire to retire. I had retired to the attic and had 
kept my eyes glued to a knot hole during the whole 
interview. I had a mortal dread of any man with a 
<5lerical garb and I was suspicious of every preacher. 
This was partially due to my having heard Uncle Pe- 
ter’s oft-time vent of opinion of Methodist clergymen, 
whom he said just went around and ate all the chick- 
ens and begged for ^ ‘money! money 1 money fer this ; 
money fer thet, and money fer everything.” I was 
prejudiced because I was interested in poultry— and 
we rarely ate any chickens, but sold them to procure 
the ordinary necessities of life— and I thought preach- 
ers made people give them their money. I had seen 
them hold up several congregations. Besides, I 
thought a preacher was not as other men— he did not 
live, think or feel as other mortals. But, as I had 
already covertly examined the elder’s traveling bag 
and great coat pockets, and found nothing apprehen- 
sive— there being no weapons in the bag and only a 
folio or two of sermons in manuscript and some toilet 
articles, and some small vials (the contents of some I 
sampled. I wish I had not, for one was extremely 
bitter) — my suspicions fled, and I concluded that it 
was reasonable to think that “the man of God” was 
human with blood and bones like other men instead of 
some foreign or celestial visitant. My good mother 
was considerably distressed about entertaining the 
godly man. She had borrowed some sugar to go in 
his coffee. We had always sweetened our coffee with 
molasses. I borrowed some of the sugar, and Kurg 
saw me. I had to give him the Barlow knife Uncle 
Peter had presented me, to keep him from telling on 
me. The blade of the knife was broken, and the back 


24 


The Squash Family. 


spring was loose, and one side of the handle was off, 
but it was one of my treasures, because Uncle Peter 
and I were great cronies, and because I could cut 
my name on the school desks like the large boys, 
and I had cut olf a cat’s tail and cropped his ears 
with it just like father did some hogs. I had rather 
give the knife to Kurg to keep him from divulging 
the theft than to be told on, for I knew that that 
meant some broad guaged palmistry on sensitive 
parts, and, besides, I could euchre Kurg out of the 
knife in a day or two. Well, my mother put the best 
fare possible before the elder. She was a splendid 
cook and the savory victuals he evidently relished, for 
I got very tired waiting for him to finish eating. I 
w^as behind the door, looking at him through a crack. 
He sure did like chicken. The best arrangements 
that could be made for sleeping was to put the elder 
in the attic on a spare bed. If I could have 
escaped from the attic I would have made my exit 
hurriedly. But I could not— he was upon the ladder 
already. Father was holding the brass lamp while 
the elder carefully dumb the ladder, and he was not 
a good climber either. Father then handed the elder 
the lamp — the only one we had, and the rest of the 
family were in total darkness. I covered up my head 
but left a peep hole, for I always liked to see what 
was going on around me. I was sleeping on a trun- 
dle bed. I would not have slept with that preacher 
that night for a world of money. It took the elder a 
whet to get to bed. He looked like a woman dressed 
in white, but his long, fiowing beard made him look 
like nothing I had ever heard of. I decided that it 
was his ministerial robe and I wondered if father 


The Squash Family, 


25 


would have to wear such a tunic when he became a 
preacher. I begun to wish that father had listened 
to Uncle Peter’s counsel. 

The elder called to father to bring him a glass of 
water to put his false teeth in, and to get the lamp as 
he was abed. They were the first artificial teeth I 
had ever seen and I was like the negro porter at the 
hotel, when a man with a glass eye, lodged there 
one night. The negro escorted the guest to his room, 
and the man wishing to change eyes, took one from 
his pocket and held his hand over his good eye while 
he took out the glass eye. 

‘^Here,” he said to the colored man, ^^get me a 
glass of water.” 

The darkey did so. The man put the eyes in it. 

‘‘Now, unscrew my head and set it upon the table 
until morning.” 

The negro fled precipitatedly. 

I calmed my fears eventually and slept soundly. 

The next day Isaac Squash was duly licensed to 
preach. In a few weeks he made his debut at his 
home church, and it met with a cordial reception. 
The most of the congregation that heard his maiden 
effort were relatives and friends. Soon he began to 
preach at every opportunity. He had appointments 
at various country churches, cross roads school houses 
and people’s homes near Squashville before many 
moons had waned. At these rural places, where no 
polished sermons or cultured preachers had ever been 
heard or seen the young preacher had remarkable 
success. He accomplished much good by doing what 
his hands could find to do. 

The pastor of the charge soon learned of the new 


26 


The Squash Family. 


licentiate's work and success and assigned him regular 
duties. Rev. Squash was a vocalist and revivalist, 
and the experience attended with so much praise and 
success, soon caused him to wish to ‘^let his eagle soar 
from higher heights.’’ He was almost beside himself 
with joy when the preacher in charge extended him an 
invitation to assist him in a revival in a town by the 
name of Crookedville. 


The Squash Family, 


27 


CHAPTER III. 

The First Sermon in Town. 

Rev. Squash received so much praise from his hear- 
ers that he became conceited in a measure and he 
felt that he deserved promotion to better preaching 
places. He had actually had better success in the 
backwood places than the regular preacher. A spirit 
of vanity rose in his breast to wish to pose before 
the more refined and intelligent congregations of the 
circuit and see if they would be as favorably im- 
pressed with him— he might be able to win laurels 
over the pastor even in town. The preacher in charge 
evidently noted that feeling in the young preacher 
and saw that he needed to be taught a lesson in 
humility. The invitation to preach at Crookedville 
w^as to help in a protracted meeting in August. There 
was an organ in the church and the people had town 
manners. Father longed to take part in just such a 
meeting and in this one he contemplated the victory 
which he felt would undoubtedly be his. He was to 
ride to the parsonage, a few miles distance from 
home, on Sunday, and go with the pastor to Crooked- 
ville. He prepared some notes on St. John 11 :35 and 
jotted them down in a Dr. Pierce’s memorandum book. 
A weeping Savior would be held before the people of 
Crookedville in such a eloquent and irresistibly pa- 
thetic way that they would be electrified. The in- 
formation that the text was the shortest verse in the 
Bible would be imparted unto them and the fact 
would secure their attention at once. The long-look- 


28 


The Squash Family. 


ed-for day at last dawned— a bright, balmy morning. 
As he was to appear in town father primped. He 
borrowed a new^ suit of clothes from one of his single 
brothers, shaved clean, and supplemented his toilet 
wdth every other needed article he could command. 
He was in perfect health, and looked ten years young- 
er than he w^as. No time was lost in reaching the par- 
sonage. The pastor was waiting for him and they 
started for the towm. As they neared their destina- 
tion the preacher asked father if he felt like preaching 
the opening sermon. 

‘H would as soon as not,’’ w^as the reply. 

'^Then if you feel ready you may have the oppor- 
tunity, but you may wait until night if you choose,” 
said his companion. About this time they came with- 
in sight of the church. So many vehicles and horses 
were hitched on the grounds that when the preachers 
w’ere hitching their steeds, father said : 

‘^Brother, I believe that I will wait until night to 
preach. I can do better at night.” 

^‘Very well,” agreed the pastor. 

There w^as an immense crowd present. The music 
was grand and entrancing. The sermon w^as able and 
well received. The preacher preached better than he 
ever had, father thought. Father began to have mis- 
givings about excelling him, but his mind flew to his 
text and the notes and he felt reassured. He hoped 
that as large a congregation would be present at 
night. 

At the close of the service the pastor announced 
that he had come to hold a week’s meeting and that 
young brother Squash w^as with him, and he under- 


The Squash Family, 


29 


stood that he was an excellent preacher, and would 
preach for them that night. 

Immediately after the benediction a bevy of young 
ladies presented themselves to be introduced to the 
preacher. Although not over twenty miles from 
home he was a rank stranger at that place. One 
young lady sweetly invited the preachers to go home 
with her for dinner, remarking that her mother had 
remained at home that day to prepare dinner pur- 
posely for them. The invitation was accepted. 

The young lady winked at her small brother to take 
the preacher’s horse— it was a mule— and graciously 
offered to show him the way to her father’s home. 
Father gallantly escorted her across the town to her 
home and was ushered into the parlor. The other 
preacher came with the girl’s father. Dinner was 
served presently. Rev. Squash met the old folks, who 
by the way thought he was a young man and that 
their daughter had caught a beau. After dinner the 
young lady invited him back into the parlor. The 
pastor, preacher-like, after a good dinner, asked for a 
room, and went up stairs to take a nap. And 
the young lady’s parents would not intrude their 
presence on their daughter’s company. Father 
thought this a little romantic, but he had antici- 
pated something new in town and quietly submitted 
to the situation and proceeded to converse with the 
girl the best he could. She was a little inclined to 
talk about sweethearts, and asked him to write in 
her autograph album, which he did. But he gave 
her a good religious talk, and found that she was an 
active member of the church. It was strange to him 
why her parents did not seem to wish to cultivate 


30 


The Squash Family. 


the acquaintance of the young preacher, when the 
young lady was so very friendly—hut it never dawn- 
ed upon him that the whole family were laboring 
under a mistake as to his being a married man; so 
he was cooped all that sultry afternoon in a parlor 
with a young lady who was doing her level best to 
captivate him. 

Just before sunset the young preacher began to 
think of having to preach that night and an uneasi- 
ness of spirit possessed him. He excused himself to 
take a walk to meditate and ponder on things of a 
heavenly nature. The young lady seemed glad to 
excuse him, for she had exhausted her resources to 
angle him. He walked to the outskirts of town and 
found his way to the cemetery and sat down upon a 
slab board and took a long look at his notes on the 
lachrymal exercise of the Savior. While ruminating 
the supper bell rang and he hastily returned to the 
house. Consternation was on all sides. The pastor 
was convulsed with laughter over some risible happen- 
ing. The old folks were overwhelming with apolo- 
gies for not having been more genial and communi- 
cative. The young lady was so chagrined over her 
mistake that she was in her room weeping and refus- 
ing to be pacified. The small brother was hugely 
enjoying the whole affair. In the interim of the 
young preacher’s absence the young lady had stepped 
across the street to the home of a neighbor, and was 
bragging what an impression she had made on the 
young Timothy, when it was revealed to her that he 
was a married man, with a wife and four children. 

At the supper table, she was sent for and father 
told her when she came into the dining room that 


The Squash Family, 


31 


the easiest way out of the mistake was to humor the 
joke and that, if he was a married man, he was chiv- 
alric enough to take care of young ladies and enter- 
tain them, and he proposed to go with her to church 
if she pleased, to which she assented. When they 
arrived at the church they were early, so the young 
preacher left the young lady, and told the pastor to go 
in and sing awhile, that he wanted to stroll awhile 
and pray and meditate. 

‘‘Do not be gone long, brother,’’ commanded the 
older minister. 

The young preacher started off down the pleasant 
street at a 2:40 gait. The full-orbed moon was just 
rising, the air was exhilarating, and he soon became 
oblivious to his surroundings. The street he was on 
merged into a highway. He walked on, knowing not 
how fast or how far he was walking. He was in 
deep thought. Now and then he would meet a crowd 
on their way to church, but after awhile he ceased 
to meet any one. Suddenly he came to himself at the 
sight of a friendly signboard on the side of the road. 
He approached it, wondering if he had walked a 
mile. It plainly and truthfully read: “To Crooked- 
ville two miles.” He looked at his time piece. It 
was the preaching hour. Two miles away, on foot, 
and time up ! He took his hat in his hand and struck 
a dog trot for the church. Never did two miles seem 
so long! He begun to think he had gotten on the 
wrong road. He finally got to the church, and went 
in panting like a lizard and wet with perspiration. 
The church was crowded. The pastor had concluded 
that the young preacher had taken stage fright and 
fled, and he was sitting in the pulpit, with his spec- 


32 


The Squash Family. 


tacles on the end of his nose, looking for a text 
when father entered. He looked up with a frown 
and told father to get up and go right to preaching. 

Father crawled up into the old-fashioned pulpit 
and went through all the preliminaries of opening 
service, as though nothing had been done. He selected 
a very long hymn, sang every stanza alone, prayed a 
long prayer, read a couple of long lessons, and sang 
another long hymn. The old preacher was still frown- 
ing. The congregation was impatient. He turned 
to his text in the large pulpit Bible and deliberately 
announced it, and then surveyed his crowd and an- 
nounced it again— and paused. All he could get 
Jesus to do was to weep— verily he was holding be- 
fore the people a weeping Savior! He thought of 
his precious notes, and began to fumble first in one 
and then another pocket for them. At last he got a 
book from one pocket and opened it and slipped it 
into that large Bible, but when he looked to read it, 
it did not read right. The congregation was in sus- 
pense. He concluded to go on anyway. He pushed 
up his sleeves and hit the Bible hard and said, ‘‘Jesus 
wept ! ^ ’ almost at the top of his voice ; but that was 
about all he could say. He finally loosened the cushion 
upon which the Bible rested and no matter how hard 
he tried he never could get it to fit its place again. 
He began to tremble, and, holding the Bible with 
both hands to keep it from sliding off, he apologized 
to the crowd for disappointing them and asked a little 
upstart Presbyterian preacher who sat in the pulpit 
behind him and who had been saying, “Amen^^ rath- 
er loudly, to conclude. This little preacher jumped 
up and began to halloe, “Jesus wept!^^ He was a 


The Squash Family. 


33 


college ecclesiastical product ; who used a great deal of 
elocutionary intonation and gesticulation. Rising 
upon tiptoe, he made a circling sweep with his hand 
and knocked a large lamp shade from the chandelilr 
which hung over his head. He caught at it wildly 
but it smashed into smithereens at his feet. He stood 
and looked at it a moment, then sat down— in father’s 
lap. Both of the little preachers were considerably 
mortified. Our hero pushed the other little preacher 
out of his lap, and sat with his head dowm, covering 
his face with his hands. 

The pastor arose and presently had the attention of 
the laughing audience. He told them the boys might 
be intimidated by the crowd, but he was not, and he 
proceeded to give an earnest exhortation. As he ad- 
vanced he caught an inspiration from the text and his 
soul Avas kindled until his face shone with a heavenly 
halo. The almost disorganized throng were trans- 
formed into an eagerly listening, weeping congrega- 
tion. Mourners were called and several responded. 
The old preacher went to where the two crestfallen 
beginners sat and told them to go into the altar and 
instruct the penitents. 

Squash said, can’t.” The other little preacher 
groaned. The old man told them again to work in 
the altar and not to give up in such a way and they 
crawled out of the pulpit into the altar and looked 
more like mourners than preachers. Shortly one of 
the penitents requested a certain song sung and the 
pastor asked Rev. Squash to sing it Father, in a 
trembling voice, sang, ''No Night in Heaven,” and 
the mourner, a beautiful young lady, professed re- 
ligion while he was singing. 


34 


The Squash Family. 


After service the pastor and his protege repaired 
to their room. The old man lay down on the carpet 
and rolled and laughed until he cried. The young 
man was compelled to look on and grin. 

‘'That is the best thing that could have happened. 
I have noticed you had the swell head. But I feel 
confident now that you will be more humble,” said 
the pastor, fatherly. 

“I am out of my latitude I feel, and I am going 
home to-morrow,” said father. 

The old man rolled again, and said: “No; you 
must stay and sing for me. I will not put you up 
to preach for awhile yet. ’ ^ 

Rev. Squash spent the most of the night in prayer 
and sackcloth and ashes. As a leader was needed in 
the song part of the service, he concluded to stay. In 
this capacity he made favorable impressions, but 
some wanted him to try to preach again. At last he 
consented and acquitted himself quite well. Instead 
of taking a single verse— and that the shortest one 
in the Bible— he took a whole chapter for a text. 

The meeting continued throughout the week and, 
when the pastor had to leave, the people importuned 
the young preacher to remain for several days, which 
he did, being very successful in his singing and 
preaching. 


36 


The Squash Family. 


draw the application of Rev. Squash before it was 
rejected, and told Rev. Squash that the committee 
would not pass him, but that he would see that he got 
work as a supply. 

Rev. Squash remained at the conference until it 
closed. When the appointments were read out among 
the list was, ‘'Starvation Circuit, supplied by Isaac 
Squash.’’ 

Starvation Circuit was a very large circuit in a 
mountainous and sedge-grass section of country about 
seventy-five miles from Squashville. It had nine 
appointments, and was an old, run-down charge, with 
several defunct churches — a place where many a 
young and hopeful itinerant and worn-out circuit 
rider had been put to the test. A conference gener- 
ally puts the young bloods on some difficult, unim- 
portant work for the first year or so, and, if they 
prove “faithful over a few things”, advances them 
as they deserve. There was an ordinarily good 
parsonage on the work. The supply preacher was 
handed a plan of the charge by his predecessor, when 
the conference adjourned, which proved very helpful 
to him. The circuit was in the fartherest end of the 
Shoe String District. Rev. Gid Fully, L. P. ; John 
Grumbleton, R. S. ; U. S. Mossback, St. and I. B. A. 
Gump, exhorter, were some of the officials I remem- 
ber. The churches were: Mt. Despair (the main 
church). Calvary (a worse place than where the Lord 
was crucified). Knoll of Hardtimes, Mt. Skull, Joppa, 
Mt. Moriah (it should have been called Black Maria), 
Deadgo, Hollow Chapel, and a village named Juici- 
per. 

Upon his return home the preacher had good news 


The Squash Family. 


37 


to tell his family and friends— or rather he had an 
excuse to keep from telling of his defeat. He wisely 
concluded to do like Joshua of olden days, spy out 
the land— he would go to his work and see the place 
before removing his family thither. He hastily ar- 
ranged his worldly affairs— and I can state with no 
feigned veracity that it did not take long to do that 
— he did not own anything but a wife and four child- 
ren, a mule, a dog, a cow and calf, and some debts 
and household effects. And like his Lord he rode not 
an ass but an ass's son, old David! (We gave every 
mule we ever owned the name of David). 

He started for his work with only twenty cents in 
his purse, and was rather shabbily dressed. In obedi- 
ence to him who said, ‘‘Take no thought for your life, 
and “take no purse nor scrip," he rode on, hoping, 
trusting, praying. 

He spent the first night with a hospitable farmer, 
who extended every welcome he could to ‘ ‘ the strang- 
er within his gate" — actually favoring him after sup- 
per with an argument on baptism. Father had thought 
that he was in a Methodist home and it was 
a Campbellite roof he Avas under. After pa- 
tiently listening to the man's views, father 
stated that he did not care to argue their differ- 
ences, but that he would like to read a chapter and 
have prayers. The gentleman granted the wish and 
the argument was cut short and was not renewed 
during the remainder of the visit. 

After dire hardships and fatigue the third day 
found the supply Avithin the bounds of his supply — 
Starvation Circuit. The neAV preacher began visiting 
and inquiring into the esisiting condition of the vari- 


38 


The Squash Family. 


ous churches. At some of them there were no prayer 
meetings, no Sunday schools, and not a member that 
would lead in prayer, and ‘‘brother was in law with 
brother,^’ and some should have been in jail. There 
was no interest. Run down aristocracy predominated 
at one or two places. Reports had preceded Rev. 
Squash that the new preacher was a supply, rode a 
mule,and was unprepossessing in many respects. Some 
of the people thought that the “powers that be^^ had 
mistreated them and they were condemning the 
preacher before they had seen him, and vowing that 
they would not contribute to his support. Uncon- 
scious of these usual demonstrations on the part of 
those who are “straining gnats for excuses, the 
preacher proceeded, visiting and praying at every 
home. He saw that some were inclined to snub him, 
but others were friendly and took him into their 
hearts immediately. He preached at some of his 
churches and was kindly received, but at one church 
his sermon was severely criticised. Another church, 
seeing his seedy appearance, purchased a new^ suit of 
clothes for him — the finest clothes he had ever 
owned. 

After this brief survey of the land. Rev. Squash 
returned home, to remove his family. Loading the 
plunder and children in wagons, the journey began. 
There was “weeping and wailing’^ on both sides at 
the leave-taking. Uncle Peter expostulated, remon- 
strated, and expatiated, then smuggled a few briny 
tears. I howled to remain with him, for I did not 
want to go away olf and starve like Uncle Peter said 
we would. All the young shoots blubbered through 
ignorance and sympathy. Best wishes and prayers of 


The Squash Family. 


39 


loved ones were ours. Some of my uncles went with 
us to bring the wagons back. 

It was autumn. The weather was ideal, and we 
camped out the first night. Some of the men slept 
under the wagons on leaves and some slept in the 
wagons. Kurg and myself were cuddled in front 
of a wagon bed with a sewing machine foot-plate for 
a pillow. A heavy frost fell during the night, and I 
awoke, from a fearful dream, nearly frozen. In my 
nightmare I had ridden my head into the running 
gear of the machine and was fastened. In my efforts 
to extricate myself I got on Kurg’s territory and 
tranquility (that is what father called it, but I 
thought my feet were in the region of his stomach) 
and he began to pommel me with his double fists. I 
kicked in defence and he bit and scratched in offence 
— then, when blood was spilled, midnight squalls 
smote the stillness, which alarmed the company and 
relieved the afflicted and bellicose youngsters. Our 
destination was reached in due time. 

The parsonage was in the country and was sur- 
rounded by a wood. When the house was seen. Os 
sighted a turnip patch in the garden, and before the 
wagons stopped, he, Kurg, and myself were scaling 
the palings and were in the turnips (and the turnips 
going into us). I believe that if older and wiser 
heads had not intervened we would have pulled every 
turnip, but we would not have eaten them all, for 
the patch was of good size. Of course the regular 
penalties— maternal and hygienic— were infiicted. 
Chastisement franchise was controlled and operated 
exclusively by my mother, who must have had a fin- 
ished early training, for she certainly understood 


40 


The Squash Family. 


how to administer an effective trouncing. We children 
often availed ourselves of the presence of company to 
exercise forbidden rights, but we slyly studied her 
face for frowns and signs of danger, careful not to 
let her know that we saw them. 

So we were preacher’s folk and at our new home 
— ready to meet the criticism, disappointments, and 
demands of the people— and to live or die at least one 
year on the Starvation Circuit. 


The Squash Family. 


41 


CHAPTER V. 

The First Year. 

The first year is the hardest year of the Metho- 
dist itinerancy It is a time of trial and hardship 
ni the fullest sense. The preacher is inexperienced 
and unacquainted with the duties and responsibilities 
devolving upon his shoulders. He does not know how 
to adapt himself. It is generally a misfit, but one 
year is liable to knock off the rough edges enough 
for him to know the when, how and why, and where 
of most of the phases of the work. It is a station 
hard to fill. The demands are varied. Many delicate 
and diificult circumstances arise. Perplexing and 
embarrassing ordeals must often be confronted. The 
expectations are great. The position is unique. To 
successfully comply with and meet the exigencies of 
the hour, even in a measured degree, requires a man 
of talents and resources. He must be qualified to 
cope with the most sad and trying problems of life. 
The doctrines of his church must be defended and 
promulgated. The message must be delivered. The 
fire on the altar must be kept burning. The sick 
must be ministered unto ; the dead buried ; the young 
married; the negligent awakened; the weak encour- 
aged ; the recalcitrant reprimanded, and sinners 
warned. The women must be complimented, the men 
toadied, and the children petted. Friction must be 
overcome; obstacles removed; troubles adjusted, and 
the machinery kept in repairs. Wolves must be 
destroyed ; the goats separated, and the flock— 


42 


The Squash Family. 


sheared. Beside, private and secular affairs must be 
attended to. 

The raw recruit, no matter how hopeful, zealous or 
confident he may be, soon becomes cognizant of the 
enormous amount of work and his inability to per- 
form it. He is often bewildered and dismayed. He 
will make mistakes. He cannot please everyone. 

He needs to be patient, discreet, and diplomatic. He 
must use judgment and be reasonable. The pastor 
of Starvation Circuit was enthusiastic and began at 
once ‘‘to drag the wheels of Zion from the mire.’^ 
Work was plentiful. He had not yet gotten around. 
One Sunday afternoon, shortly after his arrival, he 
started for his three o’clock appointment — Mt. Skull 
—which was six miles from where he had preached in 
the forenoon. It was in the remotest corner of the 
circuit, in an almost inaccessible district. Paths 
and cross roads bisected and diverged the route at all 
points. The preacher took the wrong road and rode 
on, unknowingly of the mistake. He was sure that 
he had ridden more than six miles already, and the 
Indian summer’s sun was bending low, yet no 
church in sight— nothing but an apparently intermi- 
nable wilderness. In a few moments the road turned 
and near the ascent of a hill he beheld a beautiful 
white country church, with an immense number of 
horses and vehicles hitched on the grounds. “A large 
crowd is out to see and hear their new preacher, ’ ’ 
mentally commented the preacher. Singing was 
heard. Men were around the doors in groups. It 
was past the preaching hour, so the circuit rider hur- 
riedly hitched old David, shook hands with a few of 
the men at the door, and entered the church. All 


The Squash Family. 


43 


on the outside followed him. The house was packed. 
Father nodded right and left familiarly and stepped 
into the pulpit, knelt and prayed. When he arose 
the singing had hushed. He at once began the serv- 
ices and preached a powerful Methodist sermon — 
such a large congregation deserved it. Before he 
finished there seemed to be a mysterious influence at 
work in the amen and awomen corners. The 
preacher thought it strange that the nods and shakes 
of heads and apparent disapproval of the sermon 
could be objections. They were different Methodists 
from any he had ever known if that was true. He was 
puzzled, but thought, perhaps, it was something else 
causing the dissatisfaction, and he would act as if he 
had not perceived any disturbance. Before he dis- 
missed the audience he thanked them for their pres- 
ence and attention and hoped to have a pleasant year 
with them. He spoke of the appointment being made 
by those to whom such power was intrusted and he 
trusted that they could accept such a preacher as 
himself, and he would be back at the regular time. 

At this juncture a florid-faced gentleman arose and 
said: ‘^Hold on, brother; I donT know about that. 
There is some mistake. ’ ^ 

am your new preacher, and I am going to 
preach here once a month, interposed the preacher. 

‘‘We haven’t any new preacher, so I don’t know 
about it,” replied the man. 

“Haven’t you seen the list of appointments?” 
asked Rev. Squash. 

“No. Who are you, anyway?” 

“I am Isaac Squash, the preacher the Jerusalem 
conference sent you this year. ’ ’ 


44 


The Squash Family, 


‘‘Didn’t you know that this was a Baptist church?’^ 

“No! I thought that we had a Methodist building 
at this place and did not know that we had to borrow 
the Baptist church.” 

The audience was greatly amused by this time. 
They saw through the error, but Rev. Scpiash had not, 

“This is a Baptist crowd, Brother Squash, and — 

“What!” ejaculated the dumbfounded preacher. 

“A ludicrous mistake has been made. Our pastor 
is sick and he sent word that he would send us a 
new man in his place today. We had about given him 
out when you came. I suppose that you are the new 
circuit rider for the Mt. Skull church. It is a few 
miles from here.” 

“Yes; I see the mistake on both sides. I appre- 
(ciate being with you just the same. Baptist water 
and Methodist fire make good steam,” said the circuit 
rider. 

“We enjoyed the most of your sermon and would 
be glad to have you with us again, sometime, ’ ’ said the 
Baptist. 

In his callow ministerial days Rev. Squash was^ 
not much of a preacher. He knew it. He told 
the people that he was not boasting of it, but that 
they had the ugliest preacher that they had ever had^ 
and he could not preach much, but he was going to 
’try to be the best preacher in the State and for them 
, to try to be the best church. In preaching father 
was kind of like a visitor my great grandmother 
had once. She had much company that day and at 
dinner, as the sweet milk was scarce she employed the 
means some modern dairymen use to increase their 
supply— she watered it. This particular guest passed 


The Squash Family. 


45 


and repassed his goblet for milk several times. He 
was about to consume 'all of the mixture, and, at 
last, seeing the old lady’s embarrassment, he apolo- 
gized in these words: ‘‘My dear Mrs. Squash, you 
will please pardon me for having passed my goblet so 
many times for milk; but the truth is, I am dearly 
fond of sweet milk— I had to drink a heap of water 
to get a little milk. ’ ’ 

Father loved preaching above all things, but as he 
could not preach much, he had to do much church 
work, to keep up. He revived the old plan of house to 
house visitation— and actually went to see every fami- 
ly within the radius of his circuit, and sang and 
prayed with all who would permit him. At some 
homes during prayers the children and cats and dogs 
would fight, and sometimes mischievous tots would 
hit him in the back and pull his hair, but nothing de- 
terred him in the work. During the year revival 
flames swept the circuit. Sinners were converted and 
the churches edified. At Joppa, which was the worst 
place on the circuit, the pastor began the revival with 
a church conference. As the roll was called he made 
a searching inquiry into the spiritual status of each 
member. “Are you enjoying religion?” “Are you 
doing your duty?” “Do you pray?” “Do you live 
peaceably with all men so much as lieth in your 
power?” and such questions were asked of those pres- 
ent. If they replied in the negative — and most of 
them did— he asked what was the trouble and if they 
wanted to get right. Out of a large membership 
there were but a few old women and children and 
old men consistent members. Some of the members 
confessed their shortcomings and long-goings and 


46 


The Squash Family, 


promised to regain their first love, and came to the 
altar to be prayed for. 

The preacher went to see every member and pro- 
pounded them like questions. The church conference 
lasted ft week. Every case was handled. ‘‘The tem- 
ple was purged”— and it almost “rent it in twain” 
also. Vileness and corruption were unearthed on all 
hands. Many were expelled or withdrew. Quite a 
number were reclaimed, and much good resulted. The 
sanctuary was purified and “strange fires” and “un- 
clean sacrifices and oblations” were no longer offered 
the Lord God Almighty. With the disturbing ele- 
ments eliminated or quelled, the church was ready to 
save souls. The whole community was awakened and 
the congregations grew until the house would not con- 
tain them. The effort redounded in many sinners 
“fieeing from the wrath to come” and the Lord’s 
name being greatly magnified. Rev. Squash had not 
been ordained and he could not string the fish he had 
caught, and he must wait until he could get an or- 
dained preacher to come and receive and baptize the 
converts. Before this could be done a Baptist preach- 
er— the pastor of the church father had preached in 
through error— came along and held a meeting in the 
neighborhood and got twenty-four of the twenty-five 
converts into his church. This was due to a deficien- 
cy in Methodist law in regard to ordination. 


The Squash Family, 


47 


CHAPTER VI. 

Causes and Sequences, 

Some of the Methodist customs and rites I never 
have been particularly fond of. I suppose I was ear- 
ly prejudiced— and first impressions remain long- 
est.” Fast day is one— I never did like it. Friday 
before each quarterly conference each member is sup- 
posed and required to ^ ^ abstain from the very appear- 
ance” of breakfast— and the rest of the meals of the 
day if he can, but he generally takes a late break- 
fast and a hearty dinner. Before I belonged to a 
preacher’s family, I was either too young or we did 
not observe the practice for me to be accustomed to 
it. Our first fast day that I remember, Kurg and I 
had to go to mill. I was not a member of the church 
but I had to fast— because there was nothing cooked 
that morning. I had some idea of the meaning of 
the word fast, even if it was not in my vocabulary, 
so I instructed Kurg to put a turnip in his pocket. 
He got a turnip too large for his pocket and he put it 
in— in — his clothes. We had to wait for our ‘Hum” 
and dinner time came. We were nearly famishing 
with hunger. We ate the turnip— but I was generous 
with my smaller brother, and gave him the largest 
half for once — as I had “late impressions” of that 
insipid, pain-producing vegetable. However before 
we secured our grinding I renounced all qualms and 
ate raw corn. Whilo waiting, to divert the gnawing 
pains of starvation, I began a tour of exploration 


48 


The Squash Family. 


around and near to the mill. Near the patient, steady, 
lazy old water mill I found a hog pen with a plank 
bottom and sides— that kind of pen I had never 
seen. The miller was fattening a bunch of hogs of 
different sizes. A water pipe led to the feeding 
trough. In scrutinizing the pen I saw the pipe and 
wondered what it was for. Knowledge is a means to 
enlarge pleasures and it is equivalent to force, and 
curiosity is the base of desire, and the unknown leads 
us. I do not know which reason prompted me to ex- 
amine the stop-cock on the pipe. But I know that I 
found that it would turn. I also know that the 
water madly spurted therefrom, drenching me and 
scaring me very badly. (I thought that I had bro- 
ken it). 

I further know that I could not stop it. (I was 
sure that I had broken it.) 

I had to dry my clothing to escape detection, so I 
lay in the sunshine above the pen and watched the wa- 
ter run and the pretty hogs quench their thirst. I had 
done a good deed. The swine were soon satisfied— but 
the stream still flowed and the pen had enough water 
in it to slake their thii*st the rest of their lives. Pres- 
ently I grew alarmed. I thought of going and telling 
the miller or some one. Conscience and I had a 
wrangling debate over the matter. I decided that 
that was not the proper course— but something had 
to be done. I tried to stop it again, but failed. Then 
I watched it run. The more I watched the more I 
was interested —and the more the, water ran and the 
deeper the pen filled. The situation became amusing. 
I began speculating as to the outcome of the catas- 
trophe— to the hogs. Some of the smaller ones were 


The Squash Family. 


49 


almost swimming and some were trying to get out of 
the pen. I wondered if they would escape. The 
water flowed steadily on. Now, the hogs were swim- 
ming. Hulla gee! I wondered how long they could 
swim or whether they could swim over the top of the 
pen. I was not hungry any longer. I would get my 
grinding and go home before some one passed that 
way. I went to the mill— but the miller said that I 
would have to wait a little longer. 0, for home! 
What a slow mill ! Look ! The miller is going to- 
ward the deluged hog pen. Still waiting ! 

‘'Here, son, is your turn,'’ said a mill hand. 
^‘Come again." 

Kurg and I left for home. 

The miller had not returned to the mill— I suppose 
the hog pen was occupying his attention. 

According to my logic, if I had not been com- 
pelled to fast, I would probably never have gotten in- 
to that trouble. I never heard more of it— and that was 
exactly what I wanted — but I spent long, anxious 
hours, expecting any moment a summon to account, 
and in preparing my defence— and I detest fasting 
and going to mill even until this day. 

In the spring there was empty pantry and hungry 
mouths at the parsonage, and Rev. Squash publicly 
said at several churches that he would appreciate pay- 
ment on his salary and was willing to take anything, 
for he needed everything, even vegetables or pro- 
visions. We had been subsisting on turnips for some 
time, but the ruta bagas were gone. Verily, starva- 
tion in earnest stared us in the face ! Father did not 
come home on Monday from his Sunday appointment. 
Early in the morning a man brought us a sackful of 


50 


The Squash Family, 


turnips. Later in the day a man brought a cart-load of 
—turnips. In the afternoon a steward brought a 
wagon load of ‘'quarterage^’— mostly turnips. The 
whole circuit liberally responded to the preacher’s 
appeal— in turnips, and scarcely a day passed that it 
did not bring more turnips. There had been a prolific 
crop the fall before and everybody had turnips. We 
had more than we knew what to do with. The cel- 
lar was running over. Since that time I have never 
liked turnips. In the late spring the turnips sprouted 
and nearly turned the house over. We put all we 
wanted in the garden for salad and threw the rest 
away. Turnips were everywhere and they became 
so common that there was not anybody or anything 
on the place that would eat them. And then salad I 
I had always liked salad, but after eating it con- 
tinually for days, weeks and months I revolted. 
Turnip tops with a “plow-point”— hog’s jowl— makes 
an appetizing dish, some people say, but I will do 
without an appetite before I resort to such a diet. I 
believe it is just an excuse they make— that is about 
all that they have to eat and they say that it is good,, 
to get you to eat it and not think anything. I am 
not graminivorous any more. 

The conference course was faithfully studied this 
year and when the annual session convened. Rev. 
Squash passed the examination and was admitted on 
trial into the Jerusalem conference. He had a splen- 
did report to make— and we had not starved. He 
was appointed to Successful Mission for the ensuing 
year. 


The Squash Family, 


51 


CHAPTER VII. 

The Squashes in General, 

Successful Mission was a new work, composed of 
a few old churches and some undeveloped territory, 
situated on top of the mountain and in contiguous 
communities. It was about a dozen miles from where 
we were. There was no parsonage on the new work 
and father’s successor was a newly married man, so 
arrangements were made for us to remain at the par- 
sonage and them to live with us, as the preacher’s 
wife was an invalid. 

There are characteristics, peculiar to the Squash 
family, which make them unlike any other. A Squash 
can tell a Squash when he first sees him— just like 
the tramps understand each other. He is a fun-lov- 
ing creature, free-hearted, with an Irish heart and 
Scotch intellect. He is a staunch friend and an un- 
relenting foe, yet he will be hard to be made offended. 
A remarkable trait— I never heard of one being rich. 
And you have to give him the lead. He does not like 
to follow. He cannot bear restraint and hence 
he cannot tolerate etiquette, although he is not ill- 
mannered to an alarming extent, as he can be ‘‘com- 
mensurate to the occasion” always if he desires. At 
the table, at the home of a Squash a stranger would 
be nonplussed. A tramp’s lingo is used and meal 
time is hilarious. “Pass the chalk and erasers”, 
means cream and sugar for the coffee. “Fighting” 
means eating. “I want some Ned” is “help my 
plate to bacon” and is invariably seconded with a 


52 


The Squash Family, 


‘‘me too’^ from several young Squashes. Then, silent 
signs will be made for many articles, the Squash 
making the signal never interpreting it. If not un- 
derstood, he will say, “111 die before I ask for it,’’ 
or “you know what I need.^^ Some member of the 
family will generally see what is wanted. If no one 
sees or heeds the sign, the Squash making it will quit 
eating and wait a moment. Still, if the others are 
too busy to attend to his wants or fail to recognize the 
insinuation, he will say to the one nearest the one 
who should be mindful of what is needed, “strike 
him between the eyes with your fist^' or “tap him on 
the head with your knife, or else will throw a bis- 
cuit at him. “I love milk,’^ “I do like bread,’’ or 
any other article of food, means that the named arti- 
cles are wished. “Shove the butter down,” “slide 
the Ned this way,” “push me anything,” “throw me 
a couple” — biscuits of course. These are some of 
the many table phrases. A dignified presiding elder 
once perched at our table was broken of his city form- 
ality— at least when he was at our house. He very 
quietly sat at the table, seeming to be waiting for 
servants or some one to attend to his wants. We nev- 
er helped anyone at the table unless he asked it. A 
meal was prefaced this wise: “Here we are! Help 
yourself. Here is where we make our living.” And 
every Indian proceeded to put to and lay by as their 
several tastes dictated. The elder — his name was Jim 
Fisty— still waited. We all noticed his actions, and 
had become tired of his coldness and forced manners 
before supper, so we began. Father said, “Brother 
Fisty, take a spoon,” passing him a dozen. The 
elder could see no use for a spoon at that time and he 


The Squash Family. 


53 


declined with thanks. ''Will yon take some saltT^ 
He had no use for salt, and he savagely said, "No!’^ 
" Pepper r’ The elder was gritting his teeth. "Vine- 
gar?’’ The elder’s eyes were twinkling by this time 
and he relaxed his austerity. "Take a banana, and 
here are some copper cents,” said father passing a 
plate of baked yam potatoes and a dish of eggs— and 
eggs were selling for a cent apiece. The elder laughed 
outright and from then on was genial and frank, as 
all presiding elders should be. He said that he never 
enjoyed a meal more, but at first he felt like Laza- 
rus-licked by the dogs. 

We lived in the country, inconvenient to church, 
school, water and wood, and neighbors. The second 
year was harder than the first to all of us. Some of 
us were sick. The invalid grew worse and died within 
a few months after coming. The mission was not a 
successful paying charge, and the other preacher, now 
being unincumbered, was not paid scarcely anything. 
An appropriation of one hundred and seventy-five 
dollars supplemented the salary for the mission — and 
that was about all. I remember that the bosom of my 
pants often was worn open and father had to quit 
praying on his knees so much and mother stayed at 
home so much that she got in the habit of staying and 
she cannot be budged out of the yard hardly since— 
and if the garden had not been a good one and the 
blackberry crop full we would have fared badly. Yet 
the Squashes of Squashville all thought that we were 
in affluence because w^e were preacher’s folk. They 
did not know how the housewife had to stint and 
economize nor the faithful preacher untiringly face 
the extreme difficulties of his pastorate. 


54 


The Squash Family. 


At some points on the mountain where he labored 
many grown people had never seen a Methodist 
preacher. The people were poor and illiterate in the 
main. They hunted and fished on Sunday and made 
illicit beverages through the week in many places. 


The Squash Family, 


55 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Death and Accidents. 

One cold December morning Kurg imparted the 
sad intelligence that Mage, a mangy, red, yearling, 
had died the night before— with “blind tigers,^’ he 
said. The unfortunate brute was stark and cold in 
the grim monster ^s embrace, sure enough, we found 
on going to the lot near the house. I suppose his 
demise was due to heart palpitation— as that com- 
plaint runs in the family. Uncle Peter says that I 
will be subject to it when I get older. Father bade 
Kurg and myself to skin the animal and attend to 
the obsequies. Os followed us. We did not know 
the modus operandi of removing the bovine ^s cuticle 
but we undertook the job. We took off the hide the 
best we could— in strips and a limb and a part at a 
time. We left some of it as the job was not pleasant 
—and neither was the weather. The funeral prepara- 
tion— it is different from those of people most always 
as the animal is stripped while the human is dressed. 
We accelerated the funeral by leaving the caudal ap- 
pendage unskinned. I thought it respectful to make 
a few remarks on the life of the deceased, who had 
been my friend and companion all the days and nights 
of his brief life— while Kurg caught old David and 
hitched him to the carcass. I never saw a more un- 
gainly, revolting corpse in my life. He was as stiff 
as a peckerwood’s bill and as poor as a bed bug. Not 
having been beautiful in life the imprint of death 
certainlyi had not improved the aspect of the dead. I 


56 


The Squash Family, 


told Kurg to drive and Os to get astride the yearling’s 
back and make believe he was driving the hearse, and 
I would follow behind and weep. It was an affecting 
scene to me, for tender memories were stirred. I re- 
membered the yearling’s kindness to me— often, when 
after milking the cow, I would suck his portion of the 
milk before I would let him try to satisfy his hun- 
ger— and it was only a trial— and he had never said 
a word. The yearling had died in a last year’s sweet 
potato patch— and the ground was frozen. The pro- 
cession began. Old David was pricking his ears and 
snorting now and then. I got hold of the yearling’s 
tail (I thought), so as to keep close, but the tears in 
my eyes blinded me (I suppose) and I got hold of 
the mule’s anecdote. He looked around. One look 
was enough for him and I had never seen him so 
lively as he immediately became. He interrupted the 
solemnities by demonstrating his traveling qualities. 
The first plunge threw the steer to its feet. David saw 
the hideous brute in his backv^ard glance. I did not 
blame him for fleeing from the terror. I would too 
if I had been a mule and been in his stead. Os was 
thrown hard to the ground. The reins were jerked 
from Kurg’s hands. The next ridge in David’s flight 
caused Mage to rear in the air and plunge on top of 
David’s back. Every time the dead yearling’s feet 
would strike a ridge it threw him to his feet or in the 
air. Some times its head was between the mule’s 
hind legs and again it was pawing David on the rump. 
It looked more animated than it had in life. David 
looked askance at the lively corpse in his mad flight 
and was terrified as he had never been. It was all be- 
yond words to describe. I ran to the house and told 


The Squash Family, 


57 


my parents of the catastrophe and they were badly 
scared. David almost killed himself running and was 
found a mile from home shaking and quivering. Os 
had a bow knot in his neck, his face bloody, and teeth 
full of beef— otherwise he was not damaged. 

One bright spring day Uncle Peter Squash made us 
a visit, driving an old bony, gray mare to a rickety 
no-top buggy. Aunt Jemima Salt was with him and 
intended to make her home with us for some time. 
We were glad to see them. Aunt Jemima was an old 
maiden sister of my mother. She was red-headed and 
freckle-faced. Uncle Peter was courting of her. 

We disposed of old David,swapping him for a horse 
which better fitted the uses a preacher has for a rid- 
ing nag. To try the new horse Uncle Peter went with 
father to an appointment on Successful Mission. It 
was a sultry, summer Saturday. They stopped in the 
town 'where father was to preach the next day. 
Birdette was a thrifty mountain town of some pre- 
tensions. It was a lovely summer resort and boasted 
of a beautiful college and a large cemetery. It was 
controlled by the sect who style themselves Christians. 
They 'vyere courteous to father and loaned him their 
church building, as the Methodists did not have a 
house in that place. 

In the afternoon of this particular day father and 
Uncle Peter, in the course of their sight seeing, went 
to the cemetery. They viewed the scenery awhile and 
lay beneath the cool shade of a luxuriant tree to rest. 
The cemetery contained several imposing monuments 
and tombstones with inscriptions cut in relief. Uncle 
Peter stared at the largest one, which was near to 
where he lay, and shortly asked, ‘Mke, by the way, 


58 


The Squash Family, 


who is thet man Rest? Shucks on, gentlemen, he 
must been a big feller/^ 

‘ ‘ I do not know anyone of that name, Peter. Why 
do you ask?^’ said father. 

‘‘I see his name on some of the big grave stones. 
I lowed ye had he’rn of him or knowed his people, 
but it seems the most of them ^s dead. ^ ’ 

‘‘I have not seen the name on any of the tomb- 
stones. Show me the ones you saw.^^ 

‘‘Why, jist there A. T. Rest, as plain as daylight. 
Now, do ye know enything erbout him ? ^ ^ 

“That is ‘at rest^ in large letters, Peter, said 
father convulsing with laughter. 

On their return home Os met Uncle Peter with this 
question, ‘ ‘ How much is two nickles. Uncle Peter ? ’ ’ 
“It^s a dime, you ignoramus, responded Uncle 
Peter testily, “why?’^ 

“Just because I wanted to know how much old man 
Nichols and his wife were. I expect they are not 
much if they are no more than a dime,^^ argued Os — 
and Uncle Peter began picking his teeth with his jack 
knife. The Nichols were new neighbors of ours. 

Uncle Peter was spruced up as we had never seen 
him and he tried to be as supple as a cat. He affected 
great manners on this visit and hung admiringly 
close, if not closer, to Aunt J emima ’s side as he could 
—and that was as close as possible sometimes, or at 
least one time. I happened to espy Aunt Jemima a 
leaning against his arm in the kitchen door at twilight 
one evening. Uncle Peter had been using spectacles 
for years but while at our home he discarded them 
and vowed that he could see a chigoer a quarter of a 
mile— but I noticed that he often read the newspa- 


The Squash Family. 


59 


pers bottom upwards. He had his hair and shoes 
greased until one could see himself. I thought I saw 
his profile on Aunt Jemima ^s auburn hair one day — 
when the sunshine glinted on her golden tresses — but 
I may have been mistaken, yet her hair and face 
looked very grasy on one side when Kurg, Os and my- 
self swooped down on them behind the hollyhawks 
in one of our Comanche escapades. I overheard Un- 
cle Peter say: ‘‘Drat those boys. Ike has got th^ 
tarnaeousest, meanest boys thet ever breethed. They 
used to be right good boys, but I alius he Vn preech- 
er’s children were the very wust on earth. 

That occasion was the time we boys got fixed. I 
liked to be close to the “silly doves, as mother called 
them, or suddenly come in their presence, and I had 
directed our play that day to that end. We had 
wooden pistols, wooden knives, and stick horses, and I 
was a savage bearing down on innocent whites, and 
had instructed Kurg and Os to hide in the tall grass 
and dog fennel near the hollyhawks. Uncle Peter 
called it “dog family.’^ The pestiferous weed was 
in bloom. We were tired. So we rolled in the cool 
green retreat to be near the loving pair. Presently 
Os raised a howl. He had gotten dog fennel in his 
eyes, nostrils and mouth. This was more fun than 
I had bargained for. In the house he went — we child- 
ren ever sought mother first when anything was 
wrong. Our cow was nearly dry and as we had visi- 
tors, mother used butter sparingly. Uncle Peter said 
that butter was the only thing that would alleviate 
the smart of dog fennel. So Os was lain on a bed 
with a lump of butter on each eye and under his nose 
and his lips buttered, which took about a third of all 


60 


The Squash Family, 


the butter on the place. In a few moments Kurg 
burst blindly into the room, crying, spitting, and rub- 
bing eyes and nose, and jumping up and down very 
fast. He was put beside Os on the bed and buttered 
nicely— another third of the butter was used. The 
butter was soothing and the boys looked so serene and 
placid, and I had no one to play with, hence out of 
S3anpathy and a desire to be with them and secure at- 
tention, I concluded to get sick also. I knew how to 
do it, but instead of make believe I actually plucked 
a bunch of fennel and rubbed it in my nose and eyes. 
It was a long time in taking effect and I was begin- 
ning to despair, when, lo! I never had such awful 
stinging and burning in my life, in my nose, eyes 
and mouth. I had a worse case than the boys. It 
was like fire. I squalled and bellowed and rolled and 
tumbled — but I was put on the bed with my brothers 
and had the remainder of the butter served on my 
face. The boys recovered in a short time, but I 
nearly died. The fennel had gotten inside of my nose, 
eyes and mouth, and infiamed them so badly that I 
was almost blind for a week, my nose as red as a 
toper’s and I could not spit straight. Verily, ignor- 
ance is not bliss. 

Uncle Peter and Aunt Jemima relished our punish- 
ment very much. Pressing bizness,” Uncle Peter 
said made it necessary for him to terminate his visit 
at once— but I thought that that business seemed to 
be with Aunt Jemima— and he went home, without 
even swapping horses once, and Os and I went with 
him. 


The Squash Family, 


61 


CHAPTER IX. 

In the City, 

This year the Jerusalem conference was held at a 
fashionable city church in the capital of the State. 
An undergraduate goes to conference a day or two 
before the beginning of the regular session, to be ex- 
amined, and Rev. Squash invariably was ahead of 
time in going and the last to leave in returning. He 
had not drawn the last quarter’s check on the appro- 
priated part of his salary despite the hard year. 

After expenses of the trip were paid he was in the 
city with only fifteen cents in his pocket. He carried 
a large, old-fashioned valise, full of books and cloth- 
ing. To catch the train he had left home at three 
o’clock in the morning and had breakfasted lightly. 
He arrived in the city at noon, as hungry as an hon- 
est man could be. During conference, the members 
of the church where the session is held, entertain the 
body and visitors. 

At the Methodist headquarters our hero con- 
sulted the directory and learned the home that 
had been assigned him. He immediately started 
afoot for the house of his to-be-host, as he was hun- 
gry and he wanted to save street car fare— and he 
walked fast. Being ignorant of distance and direc- 
tions in a city the pedestrian— already being hungry 
and weak— was soon utterly fatigued and bewildered. 
He was lost. Pie sat down on the street curbing in 
an unsavory portion of the city, to refresh himself. 
After a bit a burly policeman happened along and 


62 


The Squash Family, 


the preacher accosted him and asked directions. The 
minion of law readily gave the desired information 
and advised him to take a street car. 

The preacher hailed the next passing car 
and boarded it and went whirling through 
the city. Being tired, the preacher became 
oblivious to his surroundings, and when he began 
to come to himself he noticed but a few on the car 
and the place to look less citified. He had never rid- 
den on a street car, and, not knowing the custom, 
he kept his seat and said nothing. More and more 
countrylike was the views on either hand— and there 
were none on the car but himself and the motorman. 
In a few minutes the car came to the end of the 
car line. The motorman asked if he wanted to get off. 
Father asked if that was a certain street. ‘^Holy 
Jerusalem and cod-fish oil! That is ten miles back. 
Why did not you tell where you wanted to get off?” 
said the man. 

did not know that I had to. When I rode on 
the train I never had to tell the conductor where I was 
going. I have never ridden on a street car, and I 
confess my ignorance of its regulations,” father re- 
plied. He paid car fare again and returned to the 
city. At the transfer station he got on the right car 
— and he told the conductor where to put him off. 
The car stopped at the place and the preacher alighted. 
He went into the first house and knocked at the door. 
No response. He knocked louder. Same result. He 
kicked it. No answer. He saw a small crank near 
the side of the door. He turned it and such a clang 
followed that he thought that he had broken some- 
thing, and thought of running off before anyone 


The Squash Family, 


63 


would come out. The door opened before he could 
put such a resolution into execution. The follow- 
ing colloquy took place: 

‘^Does Brother B. live here?’’ 

^‘No, sir.” 

Where does he live?” 
do not know, sir.” 

‘'Who lives at next house above you?” 

“I do not know.” 

“Who lives below?” 

“I do not know.” 

“Don’t you know your neighbors?” 

“No.” 

And the dooi closed in his face. He tried several 
houses but it was in vain. He concluded to try the 
other side of the street, but luck was no better. 
Meeting a policeman he propounded him the absorb- 
ing question. 

“Third house below, sor, with the red gables— 
the brick,” said the accommodating officer. The 
house was a veritable mansion. The preacher was 
met at the door by a dashing and buxom, richly 
dressed woman, who respectfully stepped back a few 
steps when she saw father. 

“This is Sister B., I suppose. I am your brother 
Squash,” said the preacher, advancing and shaking 
hands. 

“No, sah; I’se de maid,” said the mulatto servant. 
He was chagrined, but promptly bade the negress to 
tell her mistress that her preacher was at the door. 
“You is not Dr. Steeplechaser I knows, and you had 
be+ter send her your card, sah, ’ ’ the woman said. 

“I have no card. Tell her to come to the door and 


64 


The Squash Family, 


I will tell her myself who I am/^ said the preacher. 

man at the door wants to see you, Mrs. B. He 
said he was your preacher.’^ 

‘‘Dr. Steeplechaser! Lud, Mary, why didn^t you 
show him in? You know him.^’ 

“ Tain’t him and he said for to tell you to come to 
the door.’’ 

“I would like to know who it is— some little charity 
monger is forever bothering me.” And she strutted 
majestically to the door and drew herself up haugh- 
tily. 

The preacher imtroduced himself and shook hands 
with her — against her will. She did not invite him 
in. He stood with valise in hand on the top step. 

“Whom did you say you were?” 

“Squash, ma’am; the preacher who is to stay with 
you during conference.” 

“Conference does not convene until day after to- 
morrow, and—” 

“I know that it does not, but I am an under- 
graduate and had to come to-day so as to take my ex- 
amination. I trust my early coming will not be an 
encroachment. I shall be easily pleased, and do not 
put yourself to any extra trouble on my account. ’ ’ 

“Mr. Squash, I am very sorry, but we were not ex- 
pecting you until day after to-morow and we are not 
prepared to take you until that time. We have com- 
pany, and—” 

“But you must. The entertainment committee as- 
signed me to stay with you and I have no other place 
to go.” 

“We cannot take you I have told you, and I am 
sorry.” 


The Squash Family. 


65 


‘ ‘ Sister, I am an humble, worthy Methodist preach- 
er on a poor work and I am depending on staying 
here. I will be no trouble. I must stay.^^ 

‘^You cannot. Go to the hotel. 

‘ ‘ I have no money, except five cents, and I am go- 
ing to stay here, for I will not stay on the streets. 
I was sent here and I am here— so tired and hungry 
that I cannot go farther, if I had some place to go. ’ ^ 
‘‘Well, I will consult my sister and see if we can 
make any possible arrangements.^’ 

A part of the conversation could be heard in femi- 
nine pitch of voice. 

“I never saw such impertinence!” 

“Why didn’t you tell him to leave?” 

‘ ‘ He says he is going to stay whether or no. ’ ’ 

“Have the police eject him. I would not tolerate 
such impudence.” 

The lady with regal tread swept back to the door, 
where she found the preacher sitting upon the door- 
steps in the October sunshine. 

“We cannot take you, Mr. Squash,” she said icily. 
“Well, I shall rest for I am too tired to go far- 
ther^ then I shall shake the dust off of my feet and 
see the committee,” said Rev. Squash, and he entered 
and seated himself upon a sofa in the hallway. 

The mistress held another consultation with her 
sister. ‘ ‘ He will not leave. He is sitting in the hall. 
What must w^e do ? ” 

“Telephone Mr. B.” 

The lady telephoned her husband who told her to 
send him to the hotel. She tripped to the hall again 
and told the preacher to go to the hotel. He asked 
her for the money or an order. 


66 


The Squash Family, 


^ ‘ I shall fix that by telephoning. They know me. ’ ^ 

Rev. Squash rested a while longer and then in the 
presence of the woman he carefully wiped the dust off 
of his feet with a bandanna handkerchief, and 
started afoot for the hotel the lady had directed him 
to. He purchased five cents worth of peanuts from 
a street vender and went his way. He entered the 
hotel and marched up to the office. 

‘ ‘ What will you have, sir ! ’ ’ asked the clerk affably, 
who was idly thrumming the desk. 

Father told him what the lady had said. 

‘ H am busy just at present. Take a chair. I will 
attend to the matter in a moment,^’ said he and he 
took up ai pen and began writing. After an elapse 
of a quarter of an hour the preacher interrupted the 
clerk. 

‘ ^ I want a room and something to eat. I am worn- 
out.’’ 

will be through shortly,” said the clerk absent- 
ly. ‘‘Can you not wait a moment?” Another quar- 
ter of an hour passed. 


The Squash Family. 


67 


CHAPTEKX. 

Out of Difficulties into Others. 

''See here, young man, I see that you are making 
an excuse of being busy. What do you mean by ig- 
noring me in that manner"? I am a gentleman I will 
have you know and I demand of you of where is the 
proprietor. This business must be settled.’’ 

"The gov’ner is in Florida.” 

"No matter where he is, I am going to have accom- 
modations if it can be secured in this city. I shall 
proceed to help myself if you do not help me.” 

"All right, sir; but did you not know that the lady 
you mentioned telephoned me before you came that 
you or someone claiming to be a preacher would 
probably come here and for me not to take you, as 
she sent you here to get rid of you?” 

" I am going to stay at her expense and you had as 
well begin to accord me the privilege of staying. I 
shall not worry myself any longer.” 

"You are the man Mrs. B. sent here?” 

"Yes.” 

"I will telephone her and see what she says.” 

Only one side of the interview could be heard. "Yes, 
he is here.” 

"Yes.” 

"Yes.” 

"Yes.” 

"I think there is no mistake.” 

"He says that he is going to stay at your expense.” 
"No!” 


68 


The Squash Family 


‘‘Ha! ha!^^ 

“When will Mr. B. be 

“Six o’clock, you say?” 

“Yes.” 

“When have you seen Miss Geraldwyn? Give her 
my compliments. She is certainly the loveliest girl I 
know.” 

“Very well.” 

“Good bye.” 

The clerk began writing again. In a few moments 
the preacher became indignant and asked what was 
to be done. 

“You are a preacher?” 

“Yes.” 

“You have no money?” 

“No.” 

“How long will you have to stay?” 

“I will try to see the committee this afternoon and 
have them give me a place. ’ ’ 

“Well, sir, we will take you, I suppose.” 

A porter took the battered, weather-worn valise and 
he and the preacher stepped into an elevator and it 
shot heavenward until it struck the roof. The preach- 
er was given the highest back room in the house. 
There were no towel, comb nor brush in the room, 
neither was there any water. The colored man was or- 
dered to bring some water, which he did and left. 
After absolving himself of the grime and stain of 
travel, the mountain preacher began looking for the 
call buttton. Finding it he vigorously punched it 
and it set off a gong far, far below which rang like 
a town clock. A negro answered the call pell-mell 
with a pitcher of water. The preacher thought the 


The Squash Family, 


69 


number of rings accounted for what he received— and 
the conjecture was true— and, as he had all the water 
he wanted, he concluded to try his luck for other arti- 
cles he needed, so he punctuated the gong with a large 
number of jabs. He got stationery this time. He 
varied the button exercise and a one-eyed white wo- 
man and a negro girl appeared on the scene. He sur- 
mised that they were chambermaids and he ordered 
them to tidy the musty smelling room and to change 
the bed linen. They argued against it, but his order 
prevailed. 

want a towel and comb and brush. I cannot 
find any,” he said. 

‘^The guests furnish their own toilet articles,” re- 
plied the hotel servants. 

‘ ‘ I am one who does not. Go and get them for me. ’ ’ 

^ ' Give us the money, sir, and we will. ’ ’ 

^^No; get them and charge them to the hotel or 
yourself, I do not care who, just so you get them.” 

They hesitated, but complied, returning with the 
much wanted things. 

‘^Now, when can I get something to eat? It is past 
two o’clock,” he said looking at his open-faced, silver- 
ine timepiece, ^^and I am about to starve.” 

^‘You may go to the dining room now if you are 
ready. ’ ’ 

Of course he was ready— and to the elevator 
he went and dropped straight down for sev- 
eral hundred feet, and found himself at last 
where he wanted to be. The menu card being 
in French and words he did not well compre- 
hend, the hungry clericus chose at random and 
what he secured to eat was something he did not like 


70 


The Squash Family, 


— tasteless soup, insipid beef of sole leather texture, 
a dish he could not name, another soup (noodle or mul- 
ligatawny) and dishes, garlic-flavored and unpalata- 
ble. He forced himself to eat all he could, and went 
to his room hungry. At the door he saw directions 
for the call button just above the button. He had 
to lay down— and he fell asleep. Late in the after- 
noon the poor, tired preacher was disturbed in his 
slumbers by loud knocking on his door. He aroused 
himself and bade the visitor enter. It was a colored 
hotel employe. 

‘‘Boss, dare am a man down stairs wanting you.^^ 

“Who is her^ 

“Dunno, Boss, but he said fer you to come down 
dare.’^ 

“You go and tell him if he wants to see me any 
worse than I do him, to come up here. ^ ^ 

The darkey looked ominously and undecided, but con- 
veyed the message. He returned in a short while and 
said, “Boss, here is de man’s card. He said fer you 
to come down to de parlor.” Rev. Squash read the 
engraved card: “Rev. P. H. Steeplechaser, pastor 
of Highsteeple Methodist church.” 

“You go and tell Brother Steeplechaser the dis- 
tance is just the same from him to me as it is from 
me to him.” 

“Look here, boss, dare am a whole lot of trouble 
’kase of you already some how. I ’spec you had bet- 
ter go down and see the gentleman.” 

‘ ‘ I am not going. I do not care how much trouble 
I am causing. I have been caused trouble enough 
myself, to-day. Tell the man what I say.” 

“Boss, ’pon my word, you air making a fuss in de 


The Squash Family. 


71 


camp shore as I^se born. Ill go but whar am your 
card ? ' ' 

‘‘I do not use cards. Here, take this,^’ and he 
scribbled, ‘‘Rev. Isaac Squash, pastor of Successful 
Mission, on the reverse side of Rev. Steeplechaser's 
card. The darkey obeyed and the city pastor was 
soon in the country preacher’s room. He greeted the 
mission pastor brotherly and was very apologetioal 
for the treatment that had been accorded him. 

“Brother, do not let your feelings be wounded 
longer. Just so soon as I learned of your case I 
personally took the matter in hand. I have secured 
you an elegant home and I have come for you. I am 
sure you shall like it much better than you would 
have the first one given you. Some of our city peo- 
ple, brother, are very selfish, and you know they 
have been imposed upon in time. I regret the un- 
charity shown you, but why did you not come to 
me?” said Dr. Steeplechaser. 

Father told him all. The city preacher’s words 
were as balm of Gilead to his bleeding heart and he 
gladly went to the home of Dr. J., where he was to 
be guest. Mrs. J., who was by the way a social rival 
of Mrs. B., was a true Christian lady who could ap- 
preciate one’s worth under untoward conditions and 
circumstances. She was not contented until she had 
heard a full rehearsal of Rev. Squash’s troubles. She 
took great pains to show him every kindness. She 
and her husband vied with each other in entertaining 
him during his stay with them. Noting that the 
preacher walked to church, Dr. J. asked why did he 
not take a car. Father told him that he preferred to 
walk. It rained one day and still the preacher walk- 


72 


The Squash Family. 


ed. Dr. J. presented him with car passes enough to 
ride the rest of the time he stayed. The last night of 
conference a cousin of father, who was a local preach- 
er, told father that he had discovered a relative of 
theirs who resided in the city, and for them to visit 
him. After the evening service they started for their 
kinsman home. They walked, but after a tramp of 
an hour, they decided to take a cab. On and on, down 
streets, across streets, through alleys and crossings 
they rode, until the preachers went to sleep. The cab- 
man woke them up, struck a light to show them he was 
at the right number, got his pay, and left them. They 
knocked at the door. 

‘‘Who is that?” said a gruff voice within. 

They told him. 

“I don’t know you.” 

They told him again their names and their business. 

“Get away from my door!” 

“Is that you cousin, John Stump?” 

“ No ! Get away from this place. ’ ’ 

“Where does he live?” 

“Get away and let us alone or I will make you.” 

“Where does John Stump live?” 

“Get away and let us alone. I don’t know him.” 

They asked more questions,but the man raved and 
swore and ordered them to leave. Hearing a window 
raise and fearing they might get shot, they left. But 
where could they go? They were in an unknown 
place. There were no streets or etreet lights. They 
could not tell how far it was or what direction to take, 
to where they knew. It was midnight. The cab- 
man was gone. Houses were scarce and silent, except 


The Squash Family, 


73 


the one they had visited and its inmate was irate. 
They were tired and sleepy. 

They wandered until they saw a glimmer- 
ing light to which they made their way. 
They were overcome in body and spirit when they 
reached it. A Scandinavian approached them whon 
they entered and asked them what he could do for 
them. They asked if they could secure lodging and 
were told that they could. They were in a low dive 
saloon, and men were drinking and swearing. The 
bartender jerked a small negro boy from the counter 
and gave him a bunch of keys and told him to show 
the gentlemen to their room. The room given them 
was uninviting. Its walls were covered with blood 
stains. A door panel was broken and the door had no 
lock. The bed was rickety and had more vermin than 
covering— they learned later. One broken chair, a 
soap box, and a smoky kerosene lamp were all the ac- 
commodations. The two preachers did not take olf their 
clothing and covered themselves with their great 
coats. Curses and drunken yells and oaths awoke 
them several times and smote their hearts with fear, 
during the night. The next morning they did not 
take breakfast, but left instanter, with blotched faces 
and hands. They had spent a night in the tenderloin 
district. 

Eev. Squash was returned to Successful Mission for 
another year— and came home the very day after con- 
ference adjourned. 


74 


The Squash Family, 


CHAPTEK XI. 

Miscellaneous Episodes, 

Near Squashville was a camp meeting ground, 
where each year pastors of surrounding charges met in 
union revival effort. In olden days regular camp 
meeting services were held there, but the practice had 
been discontinued, although many people still carried 
tents and spent the time on the grounds. The rela- 
tives with whom Os and myself were visiting had a 
tent. One morning I begged Aunt Phoebe Squash for 
one of the sweet potatoes that was roasting in the 
embers, but she denied me the hot tuber and com- 
manded me to go to — preaching. I wore a thin cot- 
ton checked shirt, which was most always unfastened 
at the neck, some tight breeches, and was barefooted. 
I wore a crownless hat without any brim — that is, I 
was bareheaded. The meeting was in full headway 
at this time. I had not yet been approached, but this 
morning I was invited to go to what was called the 
mourner’s bench— and I went because I was asked. 
Several old, sleepydooking preachers talked very sad- 
ly to me, telling me how mean I was, and some old 
ugly women shook hands with me and cried. I won- 
dered how the men knew about me and if I was as 
mean as that, to be the reason the women cried. I 
was sure that they were mistaken in the party, and 
I could not think of what I had done that was so 
bad. Anyway it was, they made me feel very badly. 
I saw an old man shouting, whom I had heard broke 
three of his father’s ribs once when he got happy. 


The Squash Family, 


75 


A man was talking to me, and the odor of his breath 
was anything but fragrant and I had my head turned. 

The old man saw me after a bit and here he came. 
He grabbed the man talking to me and myself in a 
beards hug, which threw our heads together, and 
nearly crushed the breath out of me. I freed myself 
and slipped to the other end of the bench, and knelt 
down and cried. 

I was alone when I was feeling the worse, but I pre- 
ferred it to any of the company I had had. 

Os came in the building about this time 
and seeing me crying, thought it was because I had 
not gotten a roasted potato that morning. He had 
heard me asking for one and being refused. He left 
the house and while Aunt Phoebe was getting dinner 
in the tent he poked a smoking potato out of the fire 
and brought it to me. He slipped up to me and 
whispered, ‘‘Here, take it/* I did not hear him nor 
see him. 

A hot potato is hard to hold, and he did 
not urge me to take it very much. Thinking, per- 
haps, I was scorning his kindness after he had run 
so much risk, he concluded to make me take it, and 
he threw it at me. My collar was open and the hot 
potato rolled down my bosom. I jumped into the air 
and shouted at the top of my voice. Happy rela- 
tives flocked to me and embraced me and mashed 
that potato all over my breast like a mustard plaster, 
only it was hotter than one. Of course I cried and 
squalled and jumped. Every one said that they 
never had seen a brighter profession of religion. 
I never informed them of their mistake and I was 


76 


The Squash Family, 


persuaded to join the church. There are scars on 
my breast yet. 

Os and myself shortly afterwards went home, and 
we moved to the town of Birdette. 

We had no parsonage, but rented a house. The 
simple pleasures, the happy hours, the blissful ties 
of those halcyon days will never be effaced from mem- 
ory. How often, when burdened with the cares and 
responsibilities of life, do I stop and permit my 
mind to revert to the innocent days of childhood I 
Sometimes, when sad and lonely, my heart joins the 
plaintive cry of the poet, ''Turn backward, 0 Time 
in your flight and make me a child just for to- 
night!’’ Those forever gone sweet hours, how I did 
enjoy them I And when I see a romping lad in his glee 
and mischief I almost envy him of his lot. What 
heart does not long for the happiest days of life — es- 
pecially a heart like mine, one, battered and scarred, 
disappointed and broken ! Misspent opportunities, 
disappointments, dissipation, and wrong doings, such 
as has been my folly, wells my heart with such con- 
trition, regret, and woe, that scalding tears burn my 
cheeks, and I wish I had died when I was prepared- 
only that is weakness, and some way I have buffeted 
the waves and am still dive dappering and floating 
with the flotsam upon the yellow, murky tide of time. 

At Squashville there lived an old man whom the 
boys delighted to tantalize. One day he came to 
where some of them were making molasses at an 
evaporator. Seeing him coming they concocted to 
play a prank on him, and they covered up a vile 
skimming hole with some cane. It was but a short 
while before the old man had tumbled into the pool 


The Squash Family, 77 

of filth and was fioundering and plunging, trying to 
get out. 

‘‘You boys don^t care how much you hurt 
he groaned; “you make me so mad that some times 
I would not care if I died and went to hell— only 
if I was just prepared. 

So had my thoughts been. I always was a wor- 
shipper of nature. The mountain scenery and 
grandeur were picturesque and fantastic. I spent 
the most of my spare time communing with the old 
mother. There was not a fastness, cave nor crag, 
for miles adjacent to Birdette, that I did not explore 
in search for wild fiowers and fruits or in quest of 
bird nests or small animals. 

Near the towm was a wild, secluded re- 
treat, known as Lover’s Leap, which would 
have made a picture for a painter’s brush. It 
attracted all passing tourists and was a trysting 
place for young hearts. If the silent cliffs could 
speak they would have told the “old, old story” 
in all its silliness, tenderness, and pathos, for the col- 
lege girls and boys stole from vigilant watch of the 
college faculty and wended their way to the inspir- 
ing spot, where they cooed and wooed, said sweet 
nothings and expressed serious thoughts. I am confi- 
dent that many a “yes” was given when it would 
have been otherwise at any other place. I have often 
wished that I might have had the privilege of speaking 
the love and secrets of my heart to a woman fair, 
amid the glory and beauty of this sacred spot, on a 
spring day— perhaps, the zephyr breeze, the bloom- 
ing fiowers, the singing birds, and babbling water, 
would have made a different result. 


78 


The Squash Family, 


It was a high frowning bluff at the top of where 
mountain walls met together, and from between a 
streamlet ran, splashing, dashing, over small preci- 
pices, gathering force— here a pellucid pool, there a 
foaming cataract— onward, downward, through the 
gorge it passed until lost to sight in the dark valley. 
Laurel and lichens clung between the cleft rocks to the 
scant soil and gigantic pines, some bare and dead and 
broken, overhung the height. Beneath pine needles and 
velvet moss carpeted the rocks with a soft, fragrant 
covering. 

’Twas a dreary place in winter. The wind 
moaned and soughed through the pines, chanting 
requiems or shrilly screeching like a lost and damned 
spirit. The skies were leaden and solitude pervaded 
the bleak and desolate spot. 

In spring and summer it was lovely beyond com- 
pare— a poem, a picture. 

A legend, from which the place derived its name, 
was, that two lovers years ago met here and quarrelled. 
The girl bade her lover leave her— and before she was 
aware of his intentions he sprang from her side and 
jumped from the dizzy height of the bluff. She 
rushed to the brink and looked below. He lay far 
beneath a mangled corpse. Her love for him made 
her insane and uttering a mad shriek, she plunged 
headlong to the rocks below. There she was found 
with her brains dashed out, while her lover’s body lay 
upon a ledge above. Some said blood stains re- 
mained on the rocks until that day. I do not know 
whether the tragedy was true or not— but I know 
quite a number jumped into matrimonial relations on 
account of the romantic influences. 


The Squash Family, 


79 


In some unaccountable way I never could resist the 
subtile attraction of woman. I believe I love them 
all— of course I love some better than I do others 
and generally one above all. 

We Squash children were put in college. It was a 
mixed school and there I met lassies as sweet as mo- 
lasses. I loved them at a distance. Nothing gave me 
more satisfaction than to be called upon to grant a 
sweet girl a favor. One little vixen, with her smiles 
and honeyed words, could get me to do anything in 
my power for her. She admired a bouquet of wild 
flowers I carried the teacher one day and said that 
she wished some one thought enough of her to bring 
her such a beautiful bunch of flowers. The next 
day she got a much larger, sweeter bouquet— but I 
got a whipping at home for being gone so long a 
time after them. I had to go down in a dark canon 
for them. Then, I carried her the most choice 
fruit I could find. When fruit at home gave out I 
pilfered a neighbor’s orchard. I sought the woods 
for gifts and carried her serviceberries, whortleberries, 
muscadines, fox-grapes, summer-grapes, black haws, 
hazel-nuts, chestnuts, hickory-nuts, and scurvy-root 
for tooth brushes. I got plenty of empty smiles and 
thanks in return. 

I have been no better a man than I was a boy. 
I have bitten and bitten again and again 
the same hook, just so it was not put out by the 
same fisherwoman each time. It is like chasing but- 
terflies. They are valueless if you catch one. 


80 


The Squash Family, 


CHAPTER XII. 

Playmates and Scrapes, 

Among my playmates at Birdette were two boys I 
distinctly remember. One was called ‘‘Daddy'’ be- 
cause of his ancient mien and the other “Sheepkill- 
er" on account of his dogged and sneaked demeanor. 
They were not our choice but fate threw them with 
us. They were inferior to us Squash boys. They 
were invincibly ignorant and credulous. They could 
not learn at school. They were shiftless, good-heart- 
ed, ill-treated youths, who never knew— and never 
will know— anything but the hardest kind of existence. 

We had immense fun with them. I was the leader. 
Those boys would have bled, fought and died for me. 
The worse I treated them the more they seemed to 
like me. We were together every day. We invited 
them to eat dinner with us at first. They said that 
they would go home, for a time or two, but, as they 
got better acquainted, they ate with us every time— 
dinner and supper too. My mother's splendid cook- 
ing was to their notion and I learned that they did 
not have a noon-meal at home. Their eating with us 
so often caused my parents to forbid us playing to- 
gether. I saw the boys the next day come to the 
play grounds and heard them whistle and make 
signals for us. We did not go. They tried to play 
the usual games, but there seemed to be a lack which 
the Squash boys only could supply. Then they lay 
down and talked. 

We missed the fun, too, and the boys looked so lone- 


The Squash Family. 


81 


some, that I got Kurg and Os and we made a circuit- 
ous route to where they were. I resolved to be with 
the boys and to keep them from eating with us. 
About noon I heard mother call me. I went 
to the house and ate. I came back and told 
Kurg that he was wanted at the house. He returned 
and sent Os to eat. We spoke of the errands we 
had to run at the house. We were fresh for play 
in the afternoon and rallied the boys in our sport. 
But they would lose interest and lag. Finally they 
would say: ‘‘We are awful hongry. Aren^t you^’ 
“No,’’ we would vow; “come on and let us play. 
We will let you be the fox, and we will be the 
hounds. ’ ’ The ruse worked nicely. Again, we would 
manage to have them be near their homes at meal 
time and we would dodge them and scamper home. 
Kurg and Os got “Daddy” into a scrape one after- 
noon, which almost exterminated him. He went with 
them to the pasture to bring the cows home. They 
let down the crossbars and told “Daddy” to lie down 
in the gap and watch the cows go through while 
they drove them— that it was more fun than going 
to a circus. He did as he was bidden, but I doubt if 
he ever has seen the fun of it. The boys had to turn 
out about a dozen head of cattle. The kine were in 
a run by the time they got to the opening and were 
kicking, butting and hooking each other and old 
“Budge”, our dog. One or two cows passed safely 
over without seeing the recumbent figure in the gap. 
“Daddy” concluded that he had seen all he cared 
to and that it was dangerous to see more, and he 
accordingly attempted to get out of the way. He 
rose to his knees. The boys were urging the unruly 


82 


The- Squash Family, 


bovines onward. Just then two started over together 
and struck ‘'Daddy’’ full force. After the dust 
cleared away “Daddy’s” face was full of cow tracks, 
a few teeth were missing, his nose was bleeding, 
his clothing torn, and he was more dead than alive— 
and Kurg and Os were frightened out of their wits. 
I happened to arrive in time to save Rome. I told 
“Daddy” that he had not followed instructions, and 
washed his face and brushed his clothing, and gave 
him all the store tobacco I had, not to mention it. 

He was so busy paying devotion to Pluto and 
other infernal deities that I could not pacify him until 
I threatened to never let him play with us again and 
to shove him off of Lover’s Leap or tie him to a 
tree and set a hornet’s nest by him and throw rocks 
at it. It had only been a few days before that a 
hornet had lighted between his eyes like a sledge-ham- 
mer blow— and he subscribed to my terms. I even 
was so kind as to prepare him a speech to tell his 
parents. 

But he got “Sheepkiller” to take revenge 
on Kurg. “Sheepkiller” and “Daddy” were loyal 
friends, ever and inseparable. I noticed a lurking 
droop in “ Sheepkiller ’s” weather-eye which forbode 
a covert step and I set myself to unfathom the plot 
and warn Kurg, but he accomplished his design be- 
fore I was aware of it. He persuaded Kurg to go 
hunting with him and wear his Sunday hat— “he 
could kill more field larks with it on.” 

“Sheepkiller” was a Nimrod and his logic was con- 
vincing. After trudging through tall weeds and bog 
and marsh for some time, the hunters stopped to 
rest, and “Sheepkiller” proposed that they shoot at 


The Squash Family, 


83 


each other’s hats. Kurg was afraid to. ‘^Sheepkiller” 
coaxed and artfully bantered. 

''If you will, I will let you wad your hat jest as 
little as you kin make it and I will shoot at it with 
the rifle, and I will let you shoot at my hat as it is 
the same distance with the shotgun,” generously 
offered " Sheepkiller. ” Kurg accepted the chal- 
lenge. 

The distance was measured and the hats 
placed, and the boys shot. Kurg’s hat would 
not have made a respectable pepper box, it was 
so full of holes, while "Sheepkiller’s” headgear had 
only been touched with one or two scattering bird 
shot. Kurg knew that he would lose part of his 
anatomy if the affair was noised and that it would 
do no good to attempt to secure justice from "Sheep- 
killer’s” parents. He came to me with his troubles. 
The incident would be learned by Sunday because 
the hat would have to be produced. I admonished 
him on the foolishness of the course he had pursued, 
that he should have been suspicious and been on his 
guard— and I let the lesson soak deep into his cra- 
nium. I relieved his dismay the next day by offering 
my assistance in getting a new hat. We went out 
in town and I secured a job splitting seasoned stove- 
wood and cleaning out a stable. The work was 
hard, the day warm, and the pay small. Kurg 
said, "Let us quit. I will take a whipping and you 
and I can give "Sheepkiller” the best in our shop.” 

"No,” Kiid I; "you must not get a whipping. 
We will get a hat just like your holey one was when 
it Avas new, and then we will give "Sheepkiller” a 
Roland for his Oliver.” 


84 


The Squash Family. 


Our hands were blistered and we thought the wood 
pile was like the widow ^s meal— it never would give 
out. We worked three days before we finished the 
jobs and then lacked a dime — and it was Saturday. 
Late that afternoon a stranger gave Kurg ten cents 
for holding his horse— and we bought the hat. 

One Sunday ‘ ‘ Daddy cajoled Os to ride down a 
steep declivity in an empty sugar barrel. A bent 
nail or two played havoc with the young Squash. 
‘ ‘ Daddy ^s^^ vengeance had been wreaked. I waxed 
wroth and sought opportunity to take ‘‘a tooth for a 
tooth. ’ ^ 


The Squash Family, 


85 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The Way the Ball Winds, 

Writing histories is not easy. The ball of life is 
not one long, even kind of thread, but is composed 
of all kinds of strings. It may be easy to put to- 
gether, but it is difficult to unwind and put in a 
presentable shape. I have gotten the balls from 
which I am weaving this narrative, so mixed that I 
hardly know where they all are. I have broken 
threads, and dropped ends and left out little worth- 
less scraps, and used one ball so long, that I do not 
care to be historian again. But I hope to unkink 
the tangles ere I throw up the sponge, although I 
confess the meshes to be already so confused as to 
weary the patience of the gentle reader. I expect 
this history is like Joseph’s coat— of many colors. 

The long and short of it. Uncle Peter made a 
flying trip to our house and took to his bosom as 
bride his red-headed lover, my aunt, Jemima 
Salt. Another Salt had been Squashed or 
another Squash had been Salted. Much as my 
interest and observation had been my youth- 
ful inexperience makes me ignorant of their court- 
ship, except the inferential sidelight of later years I 
gleaned in Uncle Peter’s precepts and confidential lec- 
tures on women. 

While I was ever a quid nunc I have had often to 
surmise and be satisfied. I know an old widower is 
the biggest fool in fooldom when he falls in love— but 
that proves woman to be a blessing to a man’s life. 


86 


The Squash Family. 


Woman can be a blessing and she can be a curse. The 
suitable one makes a man’s life the brighter. An old 
widower rarely uses judgment— and the woman he 
marries does not either— and the marriage is very 
often a bad bargain. Uncle Peter and Aunt Jemima 
seemed to be as happy as negroes— and they ventured 
into Cupidom unmolested. 

The appointments and disappointments of Success- 
ful Mission still held Rev. Squash’s attention and he 
endeavored to bring the work and its name in closer 
relation, by every effort in his power. A Metho- 
dist preacher is very much like a cow boy. The cir- 
cuit is a ranch. He is constantly overlooking the 
flock— if he does his duty— branding some, breaking 
some, shearing some, and losing some. 

Rev. Squash had a protege— a limber- jointed, 
gawky, gosling sort of fellow — under him. He 
lassoed the colt when he was on Starvation 
Circuit, and the youngster, being willing to 
work to the Gospel wagon, followed him 
to the present field. That young horse, after many 
falls and failures, became a prize animal and to-day, 
although he kicked out of the Methodist harness, is 
a star racer on the Presbyterian race track in the 
North. His name is Silas Jonathan Poster Books. 

Books was eccentric. At one of the churches on Suc- 
cessful Mission, the membership consisted of a few 
old men, women and children. Books and Rev. 
Squash ‘‘let down their net” for a solid week with- 
out so much as catching a minnow. They had re- 
sorted to every plan they knew until Books formula- 
ted a method which proved beneficial. 

“To-day I shall preach,” he said in consultation. 


The Squash Family. 


87 


‘‘Leave the whole thing to me. I am going to have 
a move.’’ 

“What do you intend doing?” asked Squash. 

“Wait and see. You must obey me. All I want 
you to do is to sing when I say for you to and not 
to stop until I order you to,” said Books. 

The young prophet remained long “in his tent” 
“and chose him five smooth stones out of the brook” 
with which to meet Goliath. The audience was of 
fair size. The preacher announced this text: “Go 
out into the highways and hedges and compel them to 
come in. ’ ’ 

He dissertated upon the importance of 
being religious, for awhile, and called for the church 
to come into the altar for consecration. They were 
simple folk, sincere and zealous. Among the members 
of the church were four sisters named Jones. They 
were hale females of great strength. All the church 
members present came as they had been doing for a 
week, and vowed to do as they were bidden. At the 
close of prayer Books arose and whispered to the old 
men within the chancel, who went and closed the 
doors and stood sentinels. 

Books then said : “Cliristian soldiers, siil is rife. It 
has pervaded the sanctity of our homes and our 
loved ones are being damned before our eyes, 
and we are not doing much to save them. Are we 
going to let them go to hell without doing our full 
duty toward them ? If they were in imminent 
physical danger we would risk our lives to 
save them. For the love you have for them 
save them. I have preached and Brother Squash 
has piped for a week and we have not them saved 


88 


The Squash Family, 


yet. The text says to compel them to come in and 
compel means to make them. While we sing let us do 
our duty and go out in the highways and hedges and 
bring them in. Sing, Brother Squash!’’ 

Squash sang, “Bring them In.” Books marched 
into the audience and took a slump of a boy by the 
arm and led him struggling to the altar. The women 
imitated his example. The sinners were the most per- 
plexed set one ever saw. One made a dive out of the 
window, but a Jones woman caught him by the leg 
and pulled him back. So soon as a sinner was cor- 
raled, another was sought. A brother of the Jones 
sisters concluded to test strength with the women and 
he locked his hands around a post. One sister was 
pulling at him, when Books called out, “Help that 
woman get that fellow aloose from that pillar,” and 
another sister went to the rescue. The man cursed 
and said, “Let me alone. If I wanted to go up 
there I would. I don’t want to go and I won’t.” 
Another woman got hold of him. They all steadily 
pulled and wrenched his hands apart and then began 
a scuffle. Benches were overturned and the man 
struggled and fought, but he was dragged to the altar 
and fell onTiis face. 

‘ ‘ It looks like you could let a fellow do as he pleases 
in this free land,” one fellow said. 

Every unconverted person in the house— a few had 
escaped— were unceremoniously “compelled to come 
in” the altar. Books commanded the singing to stop 
and every Christian to get as close as he could to the 
sinners. The weather was warm and the sinners had to 
profess to keep from smothering if not to keep from 
being damned. The services were continued until all 


The Squash Family. 


89 


the penitents were converted or under genuine convic- 
tion. That start was the beginning of a wonderful re- 
vival at that place, and the men who were compelled 
to be religious I learn made exceptionally useful 
members of the church. Let other preachers emulate 
the example. 

Dooks said: There is nothing like the sweating 
process. Converting sinners is like putting away 
sweet potatoes. If you put away sweet potatoes wet 
they are apt to rot, but they keep if carried through a 
sweat. ’ ’ 

The fourth of July, Os and ‘ ‘ Sheepkiller ’ ’ were up- 
stairs at our house and father was asleep on a pallet 
at the foot of the stairs. ^ ^ Sheepkiller ’ ’ was peep- 
ing over the stairway to see that all was well, while 
Os was stretching a sock apiece over the heads of 
three or four cats. A blind-folded feline is a ludi- 
crous object Two of the cats fell over the stairway, 
turned a few somersaults in the air and landed right 
in the preacher ^s face. Tfhe surprise gave him a 
stroke of hysteria and he seized the first thing he 
could lay hands on— which was a bootjack— and 
threw it at ^ ^ Sheepkiller. ’ ’ The aim was true and 
the weapon cut a number of geometrical figures on 
the boy’s face. Blood spurted freely and Sheep- 
killer” fled before we could learn the extent of his 
injuries. 

We entered school after vacation. Daddy ’’and 
^^Sheepkiller” also became pupils. We were not 
as friendly as had been our wont, but the strained 
relations were due to our own animosity as the boys 
evinced willingness ^Ho forgive and forget the past.” 
Kurg and myself still wanted that ‘‘tooth” or “eye.” 


90 


The Squash Family, 


Our teacher was a crabbed, fussy man, who ruled 
with a rod of iron. Before many weeks waned a 
golden chance was given me to give ‘‘Sheepkiller’^ 
retaliation for shooting Kurg^s hat full of holes. 
‘‘Sheepkiller’’ brought a ‘ ‘ deviFs-claw ^ ’ to school 
one morning. When the teacher’s back was turned 
he would slip behind him as if he would stick the 
claw in the teacher. This performance was produc- 
ing a suppressed titter in several quarters of the room. 
I carefully concealed a pin in ‘‘Sheepkiller’s” seat. 
He went closer this time than he had ever gone. I 
crept behind him and gave him a push. The sharp 
devil’s-claw sank deep into the teacher’s flesh. I was 
in my seat before the teacher could turn around, but 
he saw ‘‘Sheepkiller” just as that gentleman sat 
down and suddenly arose. ‘ ^ Sheepkiller ” caught 
such a whipping that I was sorry I had caused it 
— the pin had had effect enough. After that we were 
fast friends. 

The Squash scions were average boys and average 
preacher’s sons. Uncle Peter asked father why 
preacher’s children were the worst children. Before 
father could reply Kurg said: 

‘ ‘ Uncle Peter, a sheep eats grass, a horse eats grass, 
and a goose eats grass— one grows wool, one hair, 
and one feathers. That is the reason.” 

Uncle Peter changed the conversation. Whether 
Kurg’s philosophy answered the question or not, I 
deny the premises. A preacher may naturally have 
the worst son in the land, but a preacher’s son is 
not necessarily the worst. It is due to the fact his 
meanness is noticed more than the wrong of other 
boys. More is expected of him than of others. He 


The Squash Family. 


91 


has a better chance to be mean than other boys. His 
father is away from home a great deal; he gener- 
ally lives in a town and i^ thrown with bad boys, 
and he moves often. But he, also, has better in- 
fluences thrown around him and has better opportuni- 
ties than other boys. I admit his mistakes and sins 
but I must believe that he will compare favorably 
with any class of boys in the land. The fact of so 
many great and good men coming from his ranks at- 
test the conclusion. In this book I make no attempt 
to defend the preacher ^s children, but I let the ban 
fall where it belongs. 

I intend to give an impartial glimpse ^‘behind the 
curtains. ’ ^ Much of the criticism is unwarranted and 
is due to prejudice and ignorance. Our whole family 
have been subjected to adverse and unjust condemna- 
tion. 

Father carried Books to Squashville with him for a 
visit. They attended a Baptist service where the 
eucharist was partaken. An invitation was extended 
to all of the Lord^s children to commune, but the 
Baptists exclude all other denominations. After the 
Baptist communicants had observed the service. 
Books arose and said: 

‘‘Hold on, brother. I am a child of God and this 
is the Lord^s supper. As you will not permit me to 
take it with you I will just help myself.’’ And he 
took the bread and wine and gave father some and 
took some himself, and resumed his seat. 

Books was the preacher, who was to preach once 
for a country church, and was late. Another preach- 
er was there and he preached. The last song was 
being sung when Books arrived. He gravely entered 


92 


The Squash Family, 


the pulpit and preached without knowing the mistake. 
Another time Books in lining the hymn ‘^Amazing 
Grace’’ spoke the words backwards; ‘‘A grazing 
mouse, how sweet the sound!” 

Rev. Squash made just as bad a mistake. One 
Sunday he held the preliminary service and made his 
announcements and sang the doxology and said the 
benediction— thinking he had preached. Again, on 
the way to an appointment, one day with mother 
with him, near the church the buggy broke, and the 
preacher went for aid. Seeing the crowd and the 
hour being late, he forgot his wife and went into the 
church and preached. After dismissal he began look- 
ing for his horse and then thought of his wife. She 
was where he had left her. 


The Squash Family, 


93 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Pastoral Duties, 

Ministers are public servants and the people expect 
them to pander to their every whim and fancy. The 
preacher must be punctual, ‘‘in season and out of 
season,’^ and “be all things with all men^^, else his 
power will diminish. Some of the duties are onerous, 
but he must acquit himself creditably. No matter 
how wearied or troubled he is, or how inclement the 
weather, or how many deprivations he must undergo, 
he must hearken and heed. 

One hot August afternoon, after the close of the sec- 
ond service, far out in the mountains, Rev. Squash was 
approached by a tall, lank young mountaineer, who 
said in a quavering undertone, ‘ ‘ Parson, ken ye say a 
marriage ceremony fer meT^ 

The preacher assured him that he could and was 
willing to perform the marriage rites. 

“Where is the bridel’^ 

“She is at home. We will have to go over there. 

“Very well.^^ 

“Say, parson, would you mind walking with my- 
self and brothers and let my sister ride your nag ? ’ ^ 

“No, not the least. 

The woman mounted the preacher ^s steed and went 
ahead and was soon out of sight. A long ridge was 
ascended and the descent of another began, before 
the preacher asked, ‘ ‘ How far will we have to walk ? ^ ^ 

One of the boys answered: “It is only about five 
miles.’’ 


94 


The Squash Family, 


The preacher was not used to walking. He saw that 
he was in a dilemma. The men were hardened to 
walking and were long-legged. He had to take two 
steps to their one to keep aside of them. To make 
matters still worse it had rained that day and the 
roads were muddy and slippery. The preacher shed 
his coat and pressed bravely on. They reached their 
destination about sundown. The minister was com- 
pletely wornout. The house was a small log cabin 
with a board cooking room attached. The cook was 
at her post from the scent that greeted their olfac- 
tory nerves as they entered the cabin. Father sank 
down into a chair and waited patiently for further 
orders while a good sized congregation crowded into 
the room. The preacher finally asked the one sitting 
next to him how long it would be until the ceremony 
would begin. He replied that they were waiting on 
him. am ready/’ said the preacher. The man 
walked to the back of the room where the to-be 
bridegroom was squeezing the hand of his lover, and 
held a whispered conference with them for some 
time. He came back to the preacher and said : 

‘‘Mister, you will tell them how to do, for they 
are young and inexperienced in such matters.'’ 

Whereupon Rev. Squash explained the situation to 
them and succeeded after much elfort in getting the 
couple upon the floor. They came up close before 
him and he receded and they followed. 

“Stand there, please, and join right hands, ” he com- 
manded and the blushing pair fumbled around trying 
to get each other’s right hand. At b^st the preach- 
er united them in the holy bonds of wedlock. 

About this time the cook, who was the mother of 


The Squash Family, 


95 


the bride, came into the room and said that supper 
was ''spilin’ ” and that she did not see why they were 
so lon^ over their little marriage ceremony. 

The preacher, the bride and groom and a few 
others followed her to supper. 

Rev. Squash was a Methodist preacher, but he had 
never seen so much fried chicken at one time in his 
life. There were several dishes of the brown, crispy, 
juicy chicken and a sifter full, at least a peck of it, 
"pressed down, heaped up and running over.” It 
is needless to say that the hungry Squash did full 
justice to the repast after his long walk. 

After supper the father of the bride entertained 
the company by relating his experience in coon hunt- 
ing until bed time. The whole crowd spent the night 
with them. 

The preacher was too tired to understand how the 
good housewife arranged for twenty-five or thirty 
guests to sleep in that little house with only three 
beds. It takes a woman’s sagacity to solve many 
problems. She found it feasible however and each 
one secured accommodations— she made beds and pal- 
lets upon the fioor. 

The preacher slept soundly and arose next morning 
refreshed— and stiff and sore from the long walk the 
afternoon before. 

The groom, after breakfast, invited the preacher 
to take a long walk with him. The benedict canned 
him far out in the mountains and scanned the wood 
around. The preacher was suspicious of his actions 
and was thinking of what could be the cause of the 
offence and how he would defend himself. The man 


96 


The Squash Family, 


pulled from his pocket— a large, flabby leather pock- 
etbook, and said ; 

‘‘Parson, how much do ye charge fer yer trouble 

The preacher peeped over into the big pocketbook 
and saw a quarter of a dollar, a dime or two and 
three or four nickels. 

“Young man,’’ he said, “you are not able to pay 
me anything. I do not charge you a red cent. Be 
good to your wife and live right and be a man.” 

The honest fellow’s thanks were cordial and pro- 
fuse and he vowed to ever be the parson’s friend. 

When the preacher bade him adieu that morning 
there was a suspicion of a tear glistening in his 
sincere eyo. 

That section of country was sparsely settled and 
was wild. That night while Rev. Squash was preach- 
ing a man wildly dashed up to the pulpit and said : 

“Some men outside are trying to kill me. A man 
throwed a pistol in my face just now, but I caught 
it before he could shoot. See how the hammer hurt 
my thumb.” 

Before the preacher could realize the import of the 
disturbance, men were in the doors and windows 
with shotguns and pistols and men in the audience 
were drawing knives and revolvers, and the women 
and children were screaming and clinging to their 
male relatives. The preacher had heard of some com- 
plaint and offence because of some of his preaching, 
and he supposed it was a drunken mob that had 
come to mete him justice. He sought to abide by his 
post and quiet the turmoil, but his voice was drown- 
ed in the din and confusion. Then every light wa^ 
blown out. Quiet and order were restored eventually. 


The Squash Family, 


97 


but the crowd was scattered. A mob from a neigh- 
boring district was looking for a murderer and had 
heard that he was at church, and had mistaken the 
frightened man who ran to the preacher for the fel- 
low. Feuds existed between the two places anyway 
and the people at church thought that old flames had 
burst out afresh. Bloodshed was averted by the mob 
quietly dispersing when they learned the man they 
wanted was not there. 


98 


The Squash Family. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

Pastoral Duties {continued). 

The meeting was resumed on the morrow. A great 
awakening filled the hearts of the people and the 
altar of the church was crowded with sinners. One 
night rain fell in torrents incessantly for hours. 
When it abated it was midnight. The crowd was slim 
—■the mourners were persistent and were the major 
part of the crowd. The preacher, several old women 
and the mourners went to the nearest house to spend 
the night. The preacher was exhausted as he had 
been doing all the preaching, singing and praying 
during the meeting. He asked for a bed just so soon 
as he arrived at the cabin. The house had but one 
room. Across the joists some planks were placed, 
and the preacher was told to climb the wall to them, 
there he would find a bed. He performed the ath- 
letic feat and found the bed and some youngsters in it, 
but he retired and soon fell asleep. The old women 
presently had the mourners a mourning and the rest 
of the crowd singing — just to keep awake if not to 
continue the good work. In an hour or two, sev- 
eral professed, and the camp raised a mighty shout. 
This sudden and increased uproar awoke the preacher, 
who peeped over the edge of his bed to see what was 
the matter. 

A shouting sister saw him and held her 
hand up to shake hands with him and a new con- 
vert grabbed the other hand, and they began to pull 
him overboard in their excitement. This would not 


The Squash Family, 


99 


do for he was in his night clothing. He struggled to 
free himself from their grasp, but before he was free 
of one, another grabbed him. In spite of himself it 
seemed that he would be hauled headlong into their 
midst— and he was despairing of sustaining his posi- 
tion longer when one foot accidently caught under a 
beam and held him fast. 

Preaching funerals is a delicate undertaking— for 
it is an undertaking job all around. A preacher is 
like a lawyer— the client must be cleared notwith- 
standing the charge or the guilt, and the person that 
has joined the ‘^shut-eyed’’ ^ang must be transport- 
ed to heavenly mansions and eternal rest no matter 
how he lived and died. A good deal of superstition, 
tradition, and unnecessary and useless trouble is at- 
tached to funerals. Imposing services are due' to 
pride and precedent. The proper idea to carry out is 
to bury the dead instead of parade, ornate, and wait, 
with costly carriages, kindly words, and precious 
time. When I am dead, what will I care whether I 
am dragged away like a dead mule, clad in a night 
shirt, the next minute after I have expired? The 
worms will appreciate the corruption the same or 
more, for they will have less trouble in getting to me. 
Beside I think it would make me very angry to be ex- 
posed to the gaze of a crowd and have to lay there 
and they say and think what they will. The out- 
lay and attention given the dead would be worth more 
if bestowed upon the living— when one is dead he 
has moved from the clayey tenement and does not care 
an iota of what becomes of the old frame he left. 
The heathen are as sensible as we are with the dead. 
A simple funeral with a brief and appropriate serv- 


100 


The Squash Family, 


ice is preferred to the gorgeous pretension. A 
preacher has to get solemn whether he wants to or not 
at a funeral, but a little practice makes him equal 
to the task. 

One hot July day Rev. Squash was sum- 
moned to conduct the funeral of an old man. The 
corpse had been kept out of ground so long it almost 
stank. The preacher was unacquainted with the de- 
ceased and the living. In the course of his sermon 
he noticed uneasy and furtive glances toward the 
coffin which was before him, and a woman fainted. 
A man came excitedly to him and said the one word, 
‘‘Look!’’ and pointed toward the coffin. The lid 
was slowly rising and had split and the screws were 
popping out. The preacher thought that if the man 
was coming to life he would assist him, and he 
marched down to the box. Gas had generated in the 
corpse and it had begun to swell. He commanded 
the body to be interred at once, and left them. 

Among the pastoral duties of a Methodist preacher 
is the baptism of infants, and the rebelling “terri- 
bles ’ ’ often cause merriment and disorder. The ‘ ‘ dear 
child” behaves his worst when being baptized. Rev. 
Squash tried his apprenticeship hand upon three un- 
willing children— a baby, a three-year-old girl and a 
boy of six years. The parents with their offspring in 
tow, appeared before the preacher and the congrega- 
tion. The children were not much more than var- 
mints and were entirely ignorant of what was going 
to befall them. The baby was first. It was furious- 
ly kicking and frantically screeching throughout the 
rite and the preacher could hardly hold it. A splash 
of cold water in its face made it squall louder when it 


The Squash Family, 


101 


recovered its breath. The preacher closed his eyes 
while repeating the ritualistic form, in baptizing the 
little girl, who was badly scared, and in feeling for 
her head, she seized the back of his hand in vice-like 
grip with her teeth. He opened his eyes quickly 
and freed himself in time to see the boy escaping. 
The preacher caught him by his knit suspenders and 
baptized him, although the urchin was saying all the 
time that he would ^'be darned’’ if he did, and other 
more profane expletives. 

One day at a quarterly meeting, during the admin- 
istration of the Lord’s Supper, while all the local 
preachers and he and the elder were in the altar, 
Rev. Squash began noticing the feet of the other 
preachers and was trying to harmonize their ungainly 
dimensions and looks with the verse of Scripture 
which says how beautiful are the feet of those who 
preach, or words to that effect. The reflections were 
humorous and he was biting his lips to keep from 
laughing. It is a very difficult thing to keep from 
laughing on serious occasions when one gets tickled — 
everything distresses one to laugh. A hitch had 
occurred. Every preacher stole a glance to see what 
was the trouble. The elder was trying to remove 
the corn cob stopper from a large suspicious look- 
ing bottle. He vras using a fancy pen knife and in a 
moment broke the blade. He then whispered to an 
old farmer-preacher for a knife and the countryman 
gave him a large knife. The elder tried to remove 
the stopper, but he could not, and an old codger of- 
fered his assistance, but the stopper was broken off 
and obdurate. Finally the stopper was pushed into 
the bottle. All this only aggravated Rev. Squash’s 


102 


The Squash Family. 


levity and he never partook the sacrament in a more 
unbecoming spirit. There happened to be an old 
grumbling member of his church present, who almost 
hated him, and during the sacrament Rev. Squash be- 
ing nervous spilled a glass of wine on this old man’s 
broadcloth clothes. 


The Squash Family. 


103 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Promotion and Kindred Changes. 

Time does not change. It is forever and eternally 
the same. It is a distance— a circle we travel, pass- 
ing perhaps the same starting point. We only are 
going onward in our journey and seeing different 
scenes. As we go farther on the road, we grow tired 
and weak and at last lay down to rest. We are 
not old. We have merely worn out our bodies in 
travel. We are the same — the same entity. 

Rev. Squash served Successful Mission a quad- 
rennium. He wrought faithfully the work 
given him and deserved promotion. He had 
accomplished much. He had built a fine 
church at Birdette and one or two more 
churches at other places. The obstacles he had over- 
come inured him to the hardest phases of ministerial 
life and the lessons learned developed his ability until 
he was a circuit rider of the first water. To us one of 
the most distressing features of the itinerancy was 
moving. We had lived at Birdette three years and 
ties and endearing bonds pf friendship and familiari- 
ty had been formed and cemented until it was sad to 
sever the association and go into a land of strang- 
ers. In moving a family has to make sacrifices. 
Conveniences cannot often be moved. A Methodist 
preacher cannot accumulate much property— and he 
does not need to. With the most of them the in- 
crease is in the family. 

Rev. Squash was appointed to the Henry Clay 


104 


The Squash Family. 


Circuit, in a fertile agricultural section of the State, 
about sixty miles from where we were. 

After itemizing children and live stock and packing 
chattels and bidding friends adieu, we took wagons 
for our new home. If ever when we moved it did 
not rain I do not remember it. 

Father knew a man on the route and we spent the 
night with him— six Squashes, two teamsters, a dog, 
a cow and yearling and a calf and five horses— and 
the friend did not charge anything for keeping us, 
(for we did not ask him). That night Kurg, Os and 
myself slept in a trundle bed that was not large 
enough for a set of twins to sleep in without fight- 
ing— certainly we had a fight and it lasted nearly 
all night. The night was cold but too warm for Os 
who lay between Kurg and myself, and he pushed the 
cover back. Kurg and myself had to hold to keep 
in bed and then could not keep in all the time. 

When w^e struck the macadamized road one wagon 
w^ent back to Birdette. The other was from Henry 
Clay. We got to the town of Henry Clay late the 
following day. The parsonage, which was the nicest 
one we had ever lived in, had been rented out, and 
we had to take a vacant house adjacent until New 
Year. 

Henry Clay Circuit was in another district— the 
Cedar district with Jim Pusheasy, P. E. The charge 
was composed of four churches— Henry Clay, Sweet- 
water, Quarrelsome Hall, and Claridon. The Squash- 
es were out of their latitude, but they are a set who 
can easily adapt themselves to their surroundings. We 
were in a land of intelligence and wealth— the pro- 


The Squash Family, 105 

motion from a mountain grazing place to a clover 
meadow. 

Although Birdette had a fine college and was the 
county site, the inhabitants were either of our class 
and our inferiors and a few who deigned it beneath 
them to notice us. We Squash children had not re- 
ceived much polish from society in Birdette. 

Henry Clay was a flourishing up-to-date town. 
Everything moved otf nicely. We spent four happy 
years at Henry Clay and during our stay two more 
Squashes were added to our family— a girl who was 
christened Malinda Louella and a boy, who was la- 
beled Caleb Calhoun Christopher, an alliterative name 
of a spy, a statesman and a sailor. 

Uncle Peter and Aunt Jemima made us a visit. 
Aunt J. had to osculate every one of us and I be- 
lieve she would have kissed the dog— I would rather 
have kissed him than to kiss her. 

''Do tell, Peter!’’ said she, "look how these dear 
children have growed— just like plants. Ah, that 
dear little Martha, she is so sweet! Come here, 
dearie! Ah, you surely have not forgotten Aunt 
Jemima already? Do you not remember how I used 
to carry you to see the little pigs and little chickens ? 
Come on and see what I have for you. It is some 
nice popcorn candy I got at the show to-day.” 

"Boys, ye ought ’er been with us to-day,” said Un- 
cle Peter. "There was a sircuss in a town we came 
through and we stopped to see it and didn’t have to 
pay nuther.” 

That announcement got the attention of us boys. 

"What did you see. Uncle Peter?” I asked. 


106 


The Squash Family. 


‘^Elephants and tigers and hyeners, and lions, 
and— 

‘ ‘ Lines ! What is lines 1 ^ ^ said Os. 

‘‘They are straight or crooked marks, said Kurg. 

“No, they ain't, you gump. They are big ani- 
mules, bigger than a horse." 

“Peter Squash! You know well better than that. 
They were about the size of a half-grown calf," said 
Aunt Jemima. 

“Shucks on, gentlemen, I bet five hundred thous- 
and dollars to a Jew's harp a lion is larger 'n thet. 
I know they air— and thet settles it," said Uncle 
Peter decidedly, taking a fresh quid of tobacco. “Boys, 
you ought 'er seen 'em." 

“Wus they dead?" asked Os. 

“No; you fool! Do ye think they would be haul- 
ing around dead lions?" 

I had reached that period of boyhood Uncle Peter 
pronounced “the sweet Marie fever" stage. I had a 
hankering desire to call to see the girls on Sunday 
afternoons, but I was so bashful that I would run 
out of the room if I could when I saw a girl com- 
ing. I wrote them notes at school and smiled sickly 
smiles at them and carried them apples and candy — 
or rather I would stand around and nibble an apple 
or a piece of candy until a girl would ask me for 
some, then I gave her all I had. Some times the 
very girl I did not want to have the gift was the 
one that asked me— and I never could refuse a 
girl. I gradually tamed before them and several— 
who had learned my nature— claimed me for their 
sweetheart and got all the presents I was able to se- 
cure. But I had different ideas and longed to go to 


The Squash Family, 


107 


see the girl of my choice and take her my offerings 
and see her only enjoy them. My boy friends knew 
of my admiration, also my timidity— for a certain 
beautiful girl, and one Sunday afternoon they forged 
my name and wrote the girl a note, asking to call 
that evening. The young lady granted the request. 
I spent Sundays generally thus: I went to Sunday 
school and church in the forenoon. In the afternoon 
I joined companions— the gang of which there were 
several in the town— and we fought bumble bees, 
hornets and yellow jackets, or went fishing or swim- 
ming in the mill pond or went to the woods or some 
man’s orchard— or watermelon patch. In the even- 
ing I went home and went to roost. I forgot to state 
that some times in the forenoon, after Sunday school 
I went to a Baptist’s orchard (the father of this 
certain young lady)— because the Baptists held their 
Sunday school later than we did. The first I knew 
of the engagement with the young lady a friend 
gave me her note of acceptance. I had been fight- 
ing bumble bees, and it had begun to mizzle, running 
me to shelter. I read the note and told him I could 
not go. ‘‘You must,” he urged. “That fellow who 
goes to see her comes out here from Sweetwater every 
Sunday, and we don’t like it, so we detained his mes- 
senger to-day and wrote a card and signed your name 
to it.” 

“I will treat that fellow in no such a manner, 
neither will I be treated that way. I never did call to 
see a girl, ’ ’ I said earnestly. 

“No; that will never, never do. You will get some 
of your best friends into trouble. Joab, you will go, 
will you not? It makes no difference if it is the first 


108 


The Squash Family, 


time. You have to start some time. I know you like 
the girl and say, she likes you very much. I have 
heard her speak often of how well she likes you and 
would like to be with you. It will not be mistreat- 
ing that fellow.” 

‘‘Well, I will go,” I promised, and I hastened 
home. I laid the matter before my mother and she 
bade me prepare myself. I washed my neck and ears, 
the first time since mother had left the job to me, ex- 
cept when I went bathing in the creek — and gave my 
hands a scrubbing, and blacked my shoes, and tried 
to comb my hair. I had never worn a collar and 
cravat. I did not own any. I got some of father’s 
discarded neck toggery, which was too large. I went 
down town and looked at the boys who were in the 
habit of being in female company, then viewed my ap- 
pearance in the plate glass windows of a store. I was 
not satisfied and I went home and made what addi- 
tional changes I could. I was restless and uneasy. 
What if the girl found out how matters were and sent 

r 

me word that I need not come— well, I would whip 
the boys who wrote the card and signed my name to it. 
I asked mother what to say to the girl. She told me 
to say almost anything that suggested itself. I went 
to the barn and thought out some suggestions and 
memorized me a speech. I wanted about a sackful 
of suggestions on the subject about that time and I 
wished Uncle Peter was there to help me. I went to 
mother again and asked her how had father done 
when he called to see her. She said that it had been 
so long she had quite forgotten. That evening it 
grew dark early on account of the fog. I arrived at 
my lady love’s home in advance of the usual time for 


The Squash Family, 


109 


calling* and was ushered into the family room, where 
I had to chat her father and invalid brother. The 
girl’s mother was dead and she was housekeeper. I 
heard some one washing dishes. I was greatly terri- 
fied at the presence of her father. It seemed to me 
that he read the innermost secrets of my soul, and ob- 
jected to my coming to see his daughter. Father had 
had to steal his wife and I thought all fathers with 
daughters were stern and forbidding— I have learned 
since that some are inviting. I sat in misery. Cold 
chills ran up and down my spinal column. If I 
could have escaped without notice, I would have. 
Shortly I heard a light made in the parlor and a fire 
began to roar, and then a mellow voice say : 

‘‘Mr. Squash, come into the other room.” 

I had never been styled “Mr. Squash” before, and 
I naturally thought at first that father was present, 
and the fact of my coming to see the girl was made 
known to her father! Her brother seemed to have 
thought that I had come to see him — I wish I had, 
and I was going to let it pass for that. How I 
crossed the room is more than I can tell. 

The young lady was a charming conversationalist, 
and as my speech had forsaken me, I listened to her 
like a dumb idiot. 

Talking afer a bit was at par, then at a premium 
and in a short time out of sight. We sat for 
some time very silent and doleful. I sought to relieve 
the oppression as part of my speech was returning 
to me. When I spoke it was in a treble key one 
second and a deep bass the next, then running the en- 
tire gamut— and at last I lost my voice. I had 
caught cold (on account of the washing and scrub- 


110 


The Squash Family, 


bing I suppose) and beside I was undergoing a 
change in voice. The young lady could not refrain 
. from laughing. 

'‘I cannot talk. I have caught cold and lost my 
voice/’ I gurgled. I could not speak at all after that. 
I allowed water would restore my voice, and as I 
could not talk I made signs. She misunderstood 
me and stepped to the organ and played every love 
ditty she knew. I was angry and started to go home, 
and got to the hallway. It was raining hard. I 
saw a bucket of water though and I took a copious 
draught. I regained my voice and stayed until the 
shower slackened, then I went home, vowing never 
to go to see another girl so long as I lived. It was 
not as I had dreamed. 


The Squash Family, 


111 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Eavelings, 

This chapter is to be read or skipped. It is com- 
posed of ends and bits. I have reached a point in 
this history where there is a disconnection I cannot es- 
cape. While a few chapters back the l)alls were many 
and tangled. I have come to a number of ravelings, 
which I have to inculcate before I can reach the 
longer and regular threads. Besides^ a preacher’s 
life is rather monotonous in details. It is a routine 
career in the main. The wheel of circumstances 
turns him off at this place a season and that place 
awhile. But few new conditions are met. New faces 
and places become old in a short time. Old sermons, 
the same duties, the same demands, the same prob- 
lems, are repeated over and over. He attempts va- 
riety, but falls into the oft trodden paths. The work 
is often done in a perfunctory way. In writing 
a history of an average preacher, after the principal 
facts are given, nothing but minor incidents and ac- 
cidents remain. This treatise does not concern sole- 
ly the preacher’s lot and mission; it deals with the 
other inmates of the family and their experiences. I 
have been guilty of writing a good deal about my 
own importance, already, but I cannot promise to 
quit. If I do not speak for myself I do not know 
who will. The first advice in writing a history that 
was given me, was : do not try to tell anything you do 
not know. I know more about myself— mind, when 
I am speaking of myself — than I do of others. Who 


112 


The Family, 


should come to see us at this time but our old-time 
friend, the talented Dooks. 

He was a talented young preacher. He had affected 
great learning and manners. He wore a derby hat, a 
flaring red cravat, and celluloid collar and cuffs, and 
a ten-cent pair of spectacles. His garb otherwise 
was simple and becoming. 

Uncle Peter and Brother Dooks were soon at vari- 
ance. Uncle Peter detested Dock’s high-flown lan- 
guage and lofty manners. ‘‘Young brother, it seems 
ye air not old enough to wear specks ! why do ye wear 
’em, ef I mayn’t be so inquisitive?” interrogated 
Uncle Peter. 

“You are pardonable, certainly,” replied Dooks, 
glancing over the eye-glasses condescendingly. “I 
have astigmatism of the eyes.” 

“What did he say wuz the matter with his eyes, 
Ike?” asked Uncle Peter. 

“He said that he had a stick in his eyes,” said 
father blandly. 

“Humph!” ejaculated Uncle Peter, and he pushed 
his hat down on his head and went out of the room to 
the barn. He got into the crib and began shucking 
corn. He had to stand up to pull down some corn and 
while thus occupied a hungry cow stuck her head 
into the door unobserved. When Uncle Peter sat 
down he sat on the cow ’s head. The cow was frightened 
and tried to withdraw her head, but her horns were 
fastened to Uncle Peter’s rear. She surged and he 
vainly sought to relieve himself of the “horn of the 
dilemma”— only that is not exactly what I under- 
stood him to say. Both man and beast were released 
by a rip and tear of cloth— and the scared cow went 


The Squash Family, 


113 


around the corner with a piece of thick cloth the same 
color as Uncle Peter ^s pants, dangling from her 
horns, and Uncle Peter went to the house with his 
hat held behind him. 

Books had come to assist in a revival at a neighbor- 
ing school house. The meeting had been in progress 
several days. Books was an entire stranger in the 
community. He preached the first night after his 
arrival, before he had been informed ‘‘of the lay of 
the land. ’ ’ He made a stirring appeal to the sinners 
and extended an invitation for them to come to the 
altar. None came. Rev. Squash arose and roasted 
the members of the church and ordered them to go 
into the audience and talk with their friends. Only 
one did so— a lazy fellow— who fell upon his knees 
beside the nearest man to him, who was his red-headed 
brother-in-law. In a short while, Books marched 
down into the altar and exhorted the sinners again to 
come and be prayed for. The only church member 
who had moved, who either thought he was doing no 
good with his relative or misunderstood the proposi- 
tion, came down the aisle. Books met him and 
marched him into the altar and called the church in 
and prayed for him. That was encouraging. The 
next day a real sinner was captured. He lay prone 
upon his stomach with his face buried in the straw. 
The day was very sultry and some women were fan- 
ning the prostrated man. 

“Bo not do that, sisters, said Books who believed 
in the “sweating process.^’ The church was called 
around the poor man and prayers were offered. Mar- 
tha Squash was with them in the altar. “Little sister. 


114 


The Squash Family. 


you pray/’ said Dock. Martha began, ''0 Lord, 
please send the fire down upon this man, and — ” 

The man wanted anything but fire and he straigh- 
tened up and walked out of the house, caught his 
mule and went home, and was converted before he got 
there. 

The meeting continued. One afternoon I carried a 
girl to preaching in an old road cart. On the way 
home we met a donkey. The horse I was driving 
played shy of it, whereupon the young lady said: 
can hardly blame a horse for being scared at a don- 
key, one is so frightful looking. A few years ago 
I was badly scared at one.” 

‘^Ah!” I said, 'Hhey are very tame. Did you not 
know so at that time?” 

‘^No ; that was before I knew there were two kinds,” 
and she hastily added— ‘Hame ones and wild ones.” 

I thought she was in love with me because of the 
crimson blush which mantled her cheek. I was so 
encouraged that I escorted her to a social function 
that evening and spent my last ten cents for ice 
cream, and then did not get to talk with her. Some 
of the girls present were strangers. I met them 
when I first came. I noticed a beautiful girl sitting 
alone and I made my ivay to her side. I talked to 
her pleasantly and even lovingly— I talked to all of 
them that way. She seemed pleased and smiled, and 
I talked the more. The girl I had come with tapped 
me on the shoulder and said that she had to go home. 

On the way she said: ^^You seemed to like Miss 
Lyon very much, but how did you talk to her?” 

‘‘Why?” I asked in amazement. “She is one of 
the most entertaining girls I know.” 

“Undoubtedly; but she is deaf and dumb.” 


The Squash Family, 


115 


CHAPTEE XVIII. 

School Incidents, 

Kurg and Os and myself had a host of running 
mates at Henry Clay. Among the most intimate were 
a red-headed, freckled-faced boy named Stinger Knott 
and a cock-eyed, long-legged youth named Corner 
Squiques. In the way of mischief what we would 
not do, is not worth telling, and a good deal of it 
would not do to tell. At school we were the em- 
bodiment of trouble. If we were not fighting our- 
selves we were agitating war between others. We 
were invariably suspected of every misdeed in school 
and in town, but conviction was well nigh impossible. 
Verily ‘‘a good name is rather to be chosen than 
great riches.’’ We were not desperate characters, but 
because almost everyone gave us a bad name we 
did not hesitate to sustain our reputation. We 
Squash children did not possess all the pre- 
requisite text-books and the books we car- 
ried to school were left in our desks every 
night. To while away our time we resorted to vari- 
ous and sundry intrigues. At recitation we surrepti- 
tiously had good lessons. I saw that the teacher 
often consulted a certain book and seemed particu- 
larly selfish with it. At noon I purloined it one day 
and took it home with me. It was a book to be 
fond of. It contained solution of every problem we 
had to contend with. After that my advancement 
in arithmetic was rapid— for I borrowed the book 
each day without asking the teacher, and sometimes 


116 


The Squash Family. 


copied the lessons for a week ahead. Of course I 
was careful not to be verbatim and now and then I 
would miss a sum purposely— but I would have it 
the next time by ‘‘hard study.'' I was held up as 
a model student by the teacher who said that he 
never had seen a boy so good in figures in his life as 
I was. One thing is certain, I never studied— my 
books. I was accused of being precocious, but I deny 
the charge. The only way I can account for how I 
really ever learned anything, is, I listened closely to 
every recitation and tried to answer the questions in 
my mind before the pupils did. In this way I studied 
the lessons and when I w^as advanced to higher 
classes I already knew the lessons. Anyway I ab- 
sorbed a considerable amount of valuable instruction 
which a retentive mind held. Another source of help 
w^as helping other pupils prepare their lessons. To 
please a teacher, have good lessons. Kurg and Os 
also “increased in knowledge and understanding," 
but they applied themslves more to having fun than 
they did to “making bricks and mortar." 

One day we had a substitute teacher. Before the 
day, closed he was made to lose his temper and his 
high estimate of the profession and his qualifications. 
In a spelling class definitions had to be given. Kurg 
w^as given the word manna. In a sing-song tone he 
said: “M-a-n man, n-a na, manna, a food miracu- 
lously prepared for the Israelites by God." 

The young teacher's eyes gleamed wrathfully. The 
next word was epoch. The teacher looked at it long 
before attempting to pronounce it. The girl to whom 
it was given missed it and so did the boy below her 
and on down the line was the word misspelled until 


The Squash Family. 


117 


it came to Os who was in his accustomed place — at 
the foot of the class. 

^‘E-poch/’ the teacher said in stentorian voice. 

‘‘Efoc? E-f-o-c, efoc,” spelled Os in equal com- 
pass of tone. 

‘'No; the word is e-poch— a remarkable period of 
time/’ said the teacher. 

“E-p-o-c-h/’ spelled Os, remembering the defini- 
tion. 

“Mister teacher,” I called out from my seat, “if 
you please, I believe that word is called ep-och.” 

“What is the matter. Stinger Knott?” asked the 
teacher of my friend, who was sawing on his red hair 
with a dull bladed Barlow, ignoring my correction. 

‘ ‘ I am trying to cut the wax out of my hair where 
Joab Squash put it,” said he frankly. 

‘ ‘ He put wax in my hair first, ’ ’ I said without being 
requested to speak, my cheeks blazing because of the 
expose. 

“Stinger you and Mr. Squash leave and do not 
present yourselves again until you look like young 
men should and can act like gentlemen instead of 
little boys.” 

Those words mortified me and a desire to crush 
him in the future rankled in my breast. Stinger 
and myself left the house and went to my home. We 
were guilty of indiscretion and the teacher’s reproof 
made us feel how unbecoming to boys of our size the 
offence was— and we both were angry. I proposed 
hostilities in settlement of our differences and the 
atonement for my shame, and that I could whip any 
red-headed zany who did not have sense enough not 
to tell on a fellow. I had put more wax in his hair 


118 


The Squash Family, 


than he had mine, and I was the oldest and largest 
boy. Stinger took the epithets gracefully and de- 
clined to accept a duel, but instead offered to repair 
my hair if I would fix his. I consented. I slipped 
father ^s razor and a pair of scissors. The net result 
w’as this, there were three bare spots on my head and 
five bald places on Stinger’s head, the size of that 
number of silver dollars. The bare spots showed well 
in the red hair. We laughed at each other and de- 
cided to look more ridiculous— and we shaved off our 
eye-brows. We did not return to school until noon. 
Just as we turned the corner of the school house 
some one began throwing clay balls at us. I was hit 
in the eye the first volley and Stinger got a mouth 
full the next. We began firing at any and everybody 
we could see. The soft missiles came from all direc- 
tions. Had the school mutinied? We knew not. 
Gomer Squiques, Kurg and Os joined us and they 
had plenty of ammunition — small yellow tomatoes. We 
were in the school building by this time and were 
routing the foe and all in our way. Some of the 
larger boys were in the house studying their lessons. 
Not seeing an enemy I threw a tomato at a well- 
dressed, very ugly boy who was poring over his 
Caesar. The aim was true — the tomato hit him in the 
forehead and the seed bespattered his immaculate 
shirt front. Now, the opposition were upon us, and 
at close range clay and tomatoes flew thick and fast. I 
glanced about and there stood the assistant teacher 
looking at us. I fell out of line of battle. The prin- 
cipal of the school was at his post in the afternoon— 
the substitute having succumbed and fled. A woman 
talks too much— that assistant did! 


The Squash Family, 


119 


The first thing on the program ‘‘at books’’ was 
an investigation Nearly every boy in school was 
called to the platform. The girls had been in the 
battle too, but the old maid teacher had not told on 
them— the sympathy of her sex for the delinquent 
girls! The teacher proceeded to administer punish- 
ment without trial. Two large benches were put to- 
gether and four of us largest boys ordered to lie 
down and the rest were stacked upon us until the pile 
reached the ceiling, and the school was invited to come 
and look at us. I scrambled to the top. It was a 
scene of tears and laughs. That was not all. Every 
one had to kiss where he had hit with a tomato. I 
vainly sought for an excuse. I concluded to risk the 
ugly boy not prosecuting the case, so I remained 
silent. Telling a lie would not do. I was asked if I 
had hit anyone with tomatoes. Only one tomato I 
had thrown had struck the mark as I knew and ‘ ‘ to- 
matoes” were plural— thanks to my knowledge of 
grammar— so I said no. The other boys told that 
they had been hit on the sleeve or hand— so we all 
escaped. The teacher prohibited the boys from chew- 
ing paper into wads and throwing it on the ceiling. 
Gomer Squiques was caught in the act and had “to 
stay in” at recess. He was Kurg’s deskmate and 
boon companion, and Kurg deliberately threw a wad 
of paper upward, so he could keep Gomer company, 
but the teacher kept him in at dinner. 

Our substitute teacher was at the helm again ere 
long and I began scheming revenge. Passing notes 
between girls and boys was not permitted— but that 
increased the business. I wrote a note and took no 
pains to land it safely. It whirred across the room 


120 


The Squash Family. 


and the teacher saw it fall. He walked back to 
where it fell, wearing a sinister smile. Picking up 
the note he mounted the platform and said: ‘‘We 
have intercepted a billet doux and we shall read it 
publicly, so as to know its contents and learn its 
author,’’ but he never read it. It contained this 
line, “Pass to the next biggest fool.” 


The Squash Family, 


121 


CHAPTER XIX. 

An Unlucky Chapter, 

Uncle Peter and myself attended a Sunday school 
convention held in a near-by town. I was a delegate 
and Uncle Peter was a visitor. I did not know but 
one man in the town and he belonged’ to the upper 
crust of society. He asked Uncle Peter and myself 
home with him to take dinner and we went— but I 
wish we had not gone. Neither of us knew what to 
do. Uncle Peter mired up in the carpets so deeply 
that he was afraid to move and he stood there like the 
countryman he was, expecting to be ordered off of 
the place. He took a chair when invited and sunk 
almost out of sight. He looked so out of place that 
I forgot my own discomfort and sniggered. The 
other guests were fashionable folk and seemed per- 
fectly at ease. At the table the fun began. It was 
more and different ‘'fighting’’ from what I was ac- 
quainted with. The dinner was served in courses. Both 
Uncle Peter and myself were used to having the vic- 
tuals on the table before us, but at this place all the 
table had on it was decorations and empty dishes. 
Each one had a plate in a plate— oyster soup was the 
first course. We thought a rich man should have 
more than this to eat. We were hungry and ate our 
soup. Then we tilted back our chairs, took a tooth- 
pick, and waited to leave the table. But no one left 
and another course appeared. It was substantial food 
this time. We were not acquainted with “second 
blessings” but, as we were hungry still, we renewed 


122 


The Squash Family, 


the attack. When we finished we pushed back again 
— we were certain dinner was over, for we were satis- 
fied. Another course arrived. It was with embarrass- 
ment we resumed our position. We ate this whether 
we wanted it or not. We kept our place. A small 
pup got into the dining room and came and barked at 
me— I felt that I was worthy of the honor. An 
editor on my right said, ‘‘Mr. Squash, the pup has 
treed.’’ 

“If he was an o ’possum dog he would have bayed 
on my right,” I ventured in repartee, but no one 
smiled even. 

Another course! When would this end! I had a 
cargo already, but “sink or swim, survive or perish” 
I pushed all I could down the inside of my neck. An- 
other course— “the best for the last,” said the hos- 
tess, “and if you all do not eat it and like it I shall 
be insulted.” I would not have insulted her for 
Uncle Peter’s farm, which was so poor that ten 
drunken men could not raise a fuss on it, and tried 
to dispose of the food. Whether I was running 
over or badly excited I do not know, but I dropped 
a large piece of the slick, quivering stuff in my 
bosom. I had on one of father’s stiff -bosomed 
shirts. I was already profusely perspiring, but I 
buttoned my coat from Alpha to Omega. Then, din- 
ner was over. I was thankful. I was full — “too 
full for utterance.” “Yea, my cup runneth over!” 
While the other guests were drinking and using tooth- 
brushes, and Uncle Peter was wiping or licking his 
false teeth, I leaned against a post on the back ve- 
randa and was seized with a fit of “ coughing, ’ ’ while 
I got that unknown and not wanted mess off of fath- 


The Squash Family, 


123 


er^s shirt breast. I heard a chuckle over my shoulder. 
It came from the edlitor. He sarcastically asked 
what was the matter (next week^s issue of his paper 
had a reference to the incident). Uncle Peter and I 
took cigars and took our departure at once. We 
were walking. Uncle Peter had guilelessly undergone 
the dinner with many mistakes to his credit, but much 
elation to himself. 

‘‘They shore air clever people, said he. “See 
what a nice handkerchief the lady gave me, beside 
thet fine dinner I am proud of the present, and 
he fiourished a damask linen napkin. “But, Joab,^^ 
he continued, “shucks on, gentlemen, if I ainT a lee- 
tle onpleasantly full. I et too many dinners and I 
feel like I am about to pip. I wonder ef they eat 
thet many dinners often. I reckon they jist wanted 
to show their fine dishes and thet they could afford so 
much good eating. It wus a regular weddin’ dinner. 
Joab, try to be rich and liberal. Ef you canT work 
fer it, talk fer it— marry some rich girl. I predict 
they kin be talked into it, beside I have he^rn of sich. 
Somehow or tother, I alius loved a pore woman and a 
pore woman loved me, but I often wish I had loved a 
rich woman. 

I made him my confidante and told him the yearn- 
ings of my heart. 

“Wael, ye donT know much erbout the women 
tribe jist now. TheUs sartin, but ye will larn I^m 
thinkin\ I heve had much experience with ’em and 
I kin give ye some secrets,” said the old man trust- 
ingly. The next day, while riding the gray mare to 
water. Uncle Peter stopped to confabulate with a man 
who was trying to interest Uncle Peter in a hog chol- 


124 


The Squash Family, 


era enterprise. They were before a store, and sev- 
eral empty barrels and boxes were near them. Uncle 
Peter was sitting with one leg thrown over the pommel 
of his saddle, while our yellow dog sat snapping at 
gnats close by. Along came a negro, driving a hog 
with a rope to its hind leg. Just as he got near Uncle 
Peter, the hog ran under the old mare and she turned, 
and the hog, negro, and mare were soon spinning 
around and around, squealing, grunting and kicking. 
A barrel rolled into the melee and Uncle Peter was 
thrown skyward and lighted head foremost in a bar- 
rel. The other man was knocked down. The old mare 
made salmagundi out of boxes and barrels with her 
heels and at last left the fallen and wounded and dis- 
appeared down the street. Uncle Peter limped to the 
parsonage and ordered Aunt Jemima to get ready to 
go home the very next day. 

Sister Martha and myself accompanied them home 
for a visit. Sister Martha drank a glass of starch 
one day while we were gone, thinking it was butter- 
milk. 

Uncle Peter said, ‘‘The blamed ijot will be stiffen 
as stiff as a door nail if she ain’t doctored and be as 
proud as a peacock the rest of her life. Give her 
some dynamite or saltpetre or something. She ain’t 
fitten fer the North Pole or a cemetery already.” But 
Uncle Peter ’s drastic remedies were not used. Aunt 
Jemima gave her a copperas pill about the size of a 
small egg and a handful of Epsom salts, and she re- 
covered. 


The Squash Family, 


125 


CHAPTEK XX. 

Uncle Peter^s Lecture on Women, 

Uncle Peter delivered me a lecture on women and as 
it was a masterpiece, I will give it to my readers. He 
carried me from the house quite a distance, so as not 
to be within earshot— of a woman— as if his opinions 
on woman were a great secret. In his inimitable way, 
he began: ‘‘Joab, ye^re a colt yit on the outside of 
the fence. Of course ye heve reached over a leetle 
now and then and got a taste, but ye heve not seed 
much. Some of these days ye will jump over at some 
broken place, and ye will jump back on the outside, 
and then ye will wait and jump again and stay over 
this time I guess. But ye will larn I am thinkin^ fer 
I think ye kin ‘ connect to ^ purty well fer a young un. 
I tell ye to yer face thet I ^spect ye air a diamond in 
the rough. Ye heve a future before ye. Ye air a 
preecher^s son and ye will be throwed in society of 
wimmen and as ye heven’t an^ I am concerned erbout 
yer happiness, I will tell ye some things it would take 
ye years to larn. Wimmen peeple air a strange set. 
They air almost prezactly everything a man is not. 
The very furst thing a man ought ’er know is hisself 
and other men. Study human nater\ Ye will gen- 
erally find a man straightforward, open, and plain 
when ye heve eny transactions with him. He will 
tell ye whut hell do or not do, at once, nearly every 
time, but a woman wonT. She has to talk and think 
the matter over meny times before she decides whut 
she will do. A woman looks at everything jist oppo- 


126 The Squash Family, 

site from the way a man does, and convince a woman 
against her will and she is— the same woman still. 
Wimmen air weaker ’n men in every respect, not thet 
thare ain’t some wimmen stronger ’n some men, fer 
thare air some very weak men, but considerin’ the 
whole cahoot, men air the strongest. But, son, the 
weak things of this world kin confound the mighty, 
the Book says, and I tell ye a woman is a good fighter. 
She has some good weapons and she alius looks out fer 
her own interests. She kin take a eyeful of tears, 
and a mouthful of sweet talk, and a faceful of smiles, 
and jist lay her purty little hand on yer shoulder, 
and ask ye to do enything, and ye will think of yer 
mother and do whut she askt, if ye heve got a heart at 
all. A woman shore has got influence. She kin lead 
the most of men eround jist like ye would a calf. 
Wael, let her think she is leadin’ ye, but, Joab, ye must 
keep yer eyes open and And out where she is agoin’ 
with ye and not let her know it and if it don’t suit ye, 
jist tell her ye know her game and break away from 
her and turn the table on her if ye like. 

''I hate to see a feller so puddin ’-headed as to be 
worked as ef he wus a horse and had to. Of course 
a man ought ’er treat a woman fair and square, but 
he ought ’n to treat her like she wus an angul or a 
kanary burd or a tender plant. Ef he does, he is a 
lightening-bug sort of a man, and a woman of good 
sense has no use fer him, but to make him wait on her, 
to keep him from pesterin’ her. 

woman is a trustin’ critter and she likes a man 
with strength and courage, who is honest and trust- 
worthy, to depend upon. When a woman quits trust- 
in’ in men she has been disappointed and will be an 


The Squash Family, 


127 


old maid, if she ain’t already merried before she quits. 
Do not let her know too much no matter how well ye 
know her, but let her think she knows all. She is 
credulous when she once gits to beleeving, whether it 
is good or bad. Ef ye let her know too much she will 
change tactics fer she kin not and will not stay in the 
same notion all the time. 

‘‘Wimmen air deceitful beings— but I don’t blame 
’em every time. ’Tain’t right fer a woman to be 
made to tell where she stands in everything and ef 
she has to deceeve to keep from it, it is all right with 
me. I blame ’em when they air defendin’ themselves 
and air actin’ they air something they air not, fer 
some selfish and hidden motive. Ef the motive is 
right I kin excuse ’em more, but when it is pure hy- 
pocrisy and insincerity I hate it. She takes advan- 
tage of a man jist like she wus not a-thinkin’ of him. 

''Wimmen’s silence is their best way of deducting 
and forming opinion. They know how impulsive a 
man is and they jist keep quiet and let him go until 
they know all they want to know erbout him. 

A woman keeps ye from knowin’ whut she intends 
doin’ as long as she kin, in almost all things, and she 
will do nearly eny thing to keep ye from findin’ out— 
but she wants a man to wheedle eround and try to find 
out, 

woman makes a man feel he has acted the fool, 
and he generally has. She does it on purpose. She 
is jist jedging him. 

‘‘Her much talkin’ is fer pastime and selfish mo- 
tives. She is tryin’ to throw ye off of her track. 

“When she intimates she has diskivered ye in a sin 


128 The Squash Family, 

of ‘omission or commission', jist tell her whut ye 
know. Thet quits her quick. ' ' 

“Wimmen air as vain as peacocks, and they love 
purty things, and nice things, and little trifling things 
a man don't, and is apt to smash or tear up ef he gits 
in ten feet of 'em. They love to make a show and 
everyone tries to outrival the tother. I tell ye the 
peeple who set the styles fer sale know this. Thet is 
the reason they heve got the wimmen to thinkin' they 
all heve got to buy their hats at the same time, fer 
every woman wants the purtiest and costliest hat in 
the kentry. The very idea of all the men a waitin' to 
buy their hats all at one time! A woman likes to 
spend money. Jist put her in a store and tell her to 
git whut she wants and, ef she ain't as nigh the prom- 
ise land as she wants to be jist then. I'll eat my old 
hat. Ef she knows the value of money she will do to 
trust, but ef she don't, keep yer pocketboiok from her. 

“A woman likes to visit. Two of them kin do more 
talkin' — except a crowd of them— than ten men, and 
nuthin's been said after they git through— I mean 
quit. I remember when I wus a boy I wus sickly one 
year and laid eround the house, and listened to the 
wimmen talk. They love to talk. They talk erbout 
nigh everything and everybody. They don't talk to 
men like they do to each other. The quietest woman 
ye know is a chirper ef ye jist kin git eround and her 
not know it and hear her. 

“There air all kinds of wimmen— good and bad, 
purty and ugly, and rich and pore. The question is 
how ye air goin' to be able to tell the jenuwine from 
the counterfeit. A feller wants to be suited with a 


The Squash Family, 129 

woman and ef he gits the wrong one he is wurse off ^n 
ef he got none. 

‘‘Woman is a mighty fine burd and she is useful as 
well as ornamental. I do not see how man could do 
without her. But she must be kept in her place, and 
thet is, the home. I don^t mind her workin^ fer her- 
self, but I want her to be in a woman’s place instead 
of a man’s. She ain’t no bizness votin’ and the like. 

“I beleeve in merriage and think a young feller 
ought ’er git him a good wife as soon as he needs one 
and kin take care of her. But be sure to git the right 
one. Don ’t go on looks so much, but take her merits. 
To git a good woman a man must be a good jedge 
of a horse and be a good trader. Wimmen air very 
much like horses enyway. Don’t take the one thet is 
easiest to git and everybody wants ye to take. She’s 
a plug nine times out of ten. It’s strictly yer bizness 
and nobody else’s. Try to find one thet is hard to 
win— thet kind is a bargain nearly every time. The 
better the woman is ye fool, the better a trade ye’ve 
made. Joab, the thing fer ye to do is, wait to merry, 
but go with eny gurl ye like and study ’em powerfully 
hard, alius havin’ in mind the kind of a wife ye need 
and want. A good idea is to try to win every gurl ye 
think would suit ye, but be kereful not to go too fur. 
Ef ye find one thet pleases ye, when ye air old enough 
and able to merry, win her ef ye kin. Ef ye don’t 
want to merry a gurl, be friends and treat her right. 
But the gurls will try to make ye think they love ye 
when they don’t. They air jist wantin’ ye to spend 
money on them and give ’em a pleasant time. The 
gurl thet loves ye will not let ye know it fer a long 
time. P ’raps, ye want to know how to win a gurl of 


130 


The Squash Family. 


yer choice. I will tell ye. Be honest and secure her 
confidence. Confess and prove yer love fer her. Ef 
she looks a leetle skeered and can’t look at ye much 
straight, strike when the iron is hot. Jist grab her in 
yer arms and kiss her. She will play mad, but love 
her until ye know whether she is mad or not. Ef she 
loves ye she wants to be loved, and ef she don’t ye’ll 
know it. Tell her the fiftieth time how ye love her 
and she is the sweetest gurl livin’ and thet ye’d be 
happy with her and ye want nobody but her fer yer 
own. Tell her ye think she is a smart gurl, too. It ’ll 
take time and patience to do this and ye must use yer 
brains. Be constant and faithful and in a short time 
she is yers ef she is goin’ to be. Be independent and 
firm and go on yer merits. Ef ye find she is the one 
fer ye, be engaged, but never commit yerself until ye 
air sure of it and sure of yer own feelings. When 
ye feel sheepish, and restless, and unworthy, and fool- 
ish, ye air in love. Make the probationary stage long 
enough fer ye to understand yerself and her and 
study out the future. Ef everything is well and ye 
air ready, take her, fer she is ‘the pearl of great 
price.’ ” 


The Squash Family. 


131 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Uncle Petey'^s Philosophy. 

Philosophy seemed to he a fascination with Uncle 
Peter. His quaint logic, per se, without knowing 
him, perchance does not carry conviction with it— but 
when given to me was duly appreciated, because I 
knew he meant well and deserved my respect. He 
was a man of years and trials and I was in my callow 
boyhood— hence I listened to him. I treasure much 
of his advice. While he was not educated, he thought 
on most all problems and issues of the day, and ap- 
plied his reasoning whenever he thought it would 
help him. He was often mistaken, but the most of 
his reasoning was lucid and tangible. I was enter- 
tained on long evenings, listening to him trying to 
explain some complex or unreasonable question. There 
seemed to be two abstruse quiries which baffled his 
ability to answer. They were, why a jackass brayed 
and a cock crew. He could see no purpose in either 
and scarcely any necessity for such vocal exertion. 

^‘Shucks on, gentlemen! I reckon an ass jist can’t 
help it. I know it nearly kills him,” said Uncle 
Peter. Apparently the ass delays the painful duty 
until he is compelled to obey the inflexible demands 
of his stubborn nature. Ostensibly he does not bray 
because of vanity, for wherewithal could he be vain, 
as he is not guilty of possessing that sense or any ad- 
mirable qualities to be elated over, not even his voice. 
There is no harmony, congruity or melody in his 
speech. It is doubtful whether he understands the 


132 


The Squash Family, 


modus operand! of braying. He makes a dismal 
failure at any reasonable use of voice. It can but be 
an enormous expenditure of energy and lung tissue 
which his stupidity must admit he fain would desist 
in the pleasure if he could. 

'Ht is the nature of the brute to bray, Peter, and 
that is reason enough, said Aunt Jemima. 

‘‘Shucks on, I know it, but thet is no reason. I 
want to know why he brays. Every animal in the 
universe, except him, uses their voice fer some use or 
purpose. A dog barks at an object or from fright. 
A horse neighs when he is skeered or lonesome. A 
cow lows because of danger or she is sick. A burd 
sings, a parrot talks, and every being but him gits 
pleasure out of their voice and to talk with each other, 
but an ass does not bray fer any cause or reason.’’ 

It is true he does not bray to give warning or on 
account of excitement for he is not influenced by fear 
or slander. He brays at all unreasonable hours. Of- 
ten when he is enjoying the bliss of a nap the fit seizes 
him and he is thrown into convulsions and throes 
which render him almost unconscious. He loses his 
breath and regains it with difficulty and before he 
recovers sufficiently, the paroxysms are renewed. 
Braying gives him pain instead of pleasure— the epi- 
glottis is strained to the bursting point and the vocal 
apparatus is torn nearly to pieces. He is not eliciting 
company, for company only adds volume to the noise. 
I cannot tell why he brays unless it is as Uncle Peter 
says: “He jist can’t help it.” It seems to be a vent 
of pent up pain— a sneeze prolonged and reversed 
and continued until the poor animal is overcome. 


The Squash Family. 


133 


''And the cock,’’ said Uncle Peter, "has no sense 
in his crow. It is pure vanity and nuthin’ else. It 
is useless. It may he his accomplishment, but it ain’t 
a song, or a warning or call to enybody f er anything. ’ ’ 
A cock’s crow, when one thinks of it, is irregular, 
inconsistent with time and place, undeserving, deceiv- 
ing, and a hoax and banter, pure and simple. He has 
no consideration for your rest or that of his own fami- 
ly. At any hour of the night he splits his throat in 
answer to some neighbor chanticleer. It is a game of 
who crows last. He mounts the fence or your door- 
steps with gusto, flaps his wings, and shouts until the 
fatigue overpowers him. A young cock almost suffo- 
cates himself to learn the art of crowing. He at- 
tempts the notes, runs the scale, with stretched neck, 
ruffled feathers, eyes protruding from their sockets, 
and blood bursting nearly every vein— and fails. 
Laughter and derision greet his ears from relatives 
and enemies, but he is not crestfallen. He is ambi- 
tious and hies to some quiet spot with admiring 
friends and makes another effort. After many trials 
and patient and persistent attempts, he is "a cock of 
the walk”, strutting in his dignity and conceit— which 
probably costs him his life — crowing lustily and ever- 
lastingly. He crows on all occasions where he may 
plume his triumphs or parade his virtues. According 
to Uncle Peter the ass and cock have human proto- 
types. "Shucks on, Joab, thare air a whole lot of 
humans like them two beings. Ye will see the feller 
with the least sense a hollerin’ the loudest in every- 
thing and he don’t know why he is doin’ it. I guess 
he jist kin’t help it. And ye will see these leetle dan- 
dies, who think they air all of it, a braggin’ eround 


134 


The Squash Family, 


and a struttin^ Both kind air in the way and air a 
nuisance to the public welfare/^ commented Uncle 
Peter. ‘‘Talkin^ erbout animules/^ said Uncle Peter, 
tell ye a goat^s got more sense than most people 
gives him credit fer. Some folks think his smell in 
all the sense he ’s got. A goat is almost a human. He 
will depend upon hisself and he kin bear hardships. I 
butchered one once, but ef the Lord’ll forgive me I’ll 
never slay another ’n. It vois a pet goat thet wus a- 
gittin’ too bad erbout buttin’. He got behind a Meth- 
odist preecher one day and pushed him from the front 
gate clear under the house, and my furst wife, who 
wus a terrible Methodist, tormented me until I killed 
the goat. 

‘‘Ye know ye heve to kill ’em alive and 
skin ’em with ’em lookin’ at yet do it. Thet goat had 
plenty of knowledge and he seemed to know whut I 
meant to do with him when I hung him up by the hind 
legs to a limb on an apple tree. He looked so pitiful 
and pleadin’-lika out of his big, soft, gray eyes my 
heart almost failed me— but I cut his throat. Since I 
wus born I never he’rn the like. Thet goat talked, 
cussed, prayed and sung jist as plain as ef it had been 
a human. It said: ‘Don’t kill me— oh, Lordy, don’t! 
Whut heve I done ? Oh 1 oh 1 oh ! Damn it, quit 1 Oh, 
Lordy 1 Oh 1 oh ! Lord, heve mercy 1 Bah, oh, oh, ah, 
ha, oh!’ ‘There is a land thet is fairer than day,’ 
and he went on thet way until he died. He seemed 
skeered at furst, then got mad, and finally resigned 
to his fate. I kin hear thet goat yit sometimes. It 
jist skeers enything to death to die.” 


The Squash Family. 


135 


CHAPTER XXIL 
In Evil Paths. 

When I came home from Uncle Peter’s I resolved 
to put his precepts into practice. I called to see the 
girl of my. choice. I thought that I was the only one 
with her, but, lo ! I learned that my place in her heart 
had been usurped by another in my absence, and he 
was my brother Kurg. It was bad enough to have 
been beaten, but when the rival was my brother, it 
was hard to bear. At home life became miserable. 
Every member of the family laughed at me. Kurg 
spared no pains to let me know how he was progress- 
ing. Jealous rage filled my heart. I tried to over- 
come my feelings, but it was impossible. I lost appe- 
tite and pined. I did not attempt a race with Kurg 
and gave him a clear field. My falling in love was 
like my putting out poison for rats. I killed all the 
cats on the place. I always loved a girl who did not 
love me. In course of time my jilted heart again left 
its moorings and anchored my affections at the feet 
and shrine of one. Miss Sallie Flint. She was my 
senior by two years and my superior in every respect. 
She was worthy of the admiration of any man, both 
as to looks and graces. I composed the following 
apostrophe on the woman of my heart : 

‘‘‘Woman-angel! whom all adore. Thy azure-color- 
ed eyes, two liquid orbs of blue, melt the heart of 
man, win his admiration who hast a soul. Thy rose- 
tinted cheeks that grow riotous as a' rosebed at the 
approach of an early morning’s sun, when I stand in 


136 


The Squash Family, 


thy matchless presence— so full of blushes they are- 
hut make me the happiest of mortals, for they are for 
me. These lips, half-parted, ready to speak, but lin- 
gering to let the countenance speak for them— lus- 
cious, ruby-red, rich and sweet— ravish my heart. 
Aye, let me repeat, those eyes, the index of the soul, in 
them I see Cupid’s darts, both the raised arrows to 
send forth to assault, to gather in victory for thyself, 
and the shafts which have been winged home— the 
fatal spot, your heart! Those tender looks, like 
beams of effulgent and radiant power, are they for 
me— or for another? Or are they but nature? If for 
me I am happy, happy as an angel upon whose sun- 
lighted face the Prince of Glory shines! If for an- 
other, may never again I see thy face, but let me hide 
from sight of man, to die, to forget— no, I could not 
forget! If thy nature, then I worship thee— deny 
not me the right, since fain I wouldst die for thee if 
needs be that I should save thee ! Thy smiles— unlike 
the bursting, glorious sun-rise through the clouds, 
roseate, scintillating, glowing ; unlike the happy, 
healthful manifestations of mirth and pleasure— like 
the reflection of a fair face, divine, in a golden mirror, 
soulful, heartful, lovely, potent, bewitching, the 
echoes of the heart, the love thou hast for those thou 
smilest upon — are convincing bat allions which tear 
down the bulwarks of my heart as no feminine strate- 
gy couldst do. I am held spellbound, speechless, a 
hopeless prisoner, as a poor candlefly in the glare of 
the beautiful flame, in thy presence— a loving admirer. 
Heaven pause and bestow thy choicest blessings upon 
this fair woman’s head, crown her noble brow with 
health, and lead her through life as she hast begun— 


The Squash Family, 


137 


a pure, virtuous, beautiful, noble, honest, sincere wo- 
man,” 

But my gushing protestations of love irritated her. 
She wished to treat me kindly, but did not wish to en- 
courage me. She was candid with me and vowed her 
friendship. Before I knew whether to quit or renew 
my pleadings the sky-pilot was called to steer an- 
other charge for the year, the time limit having ex- 
pired at Henry Clay. We moved to a town named 
Rocque, which was situated on the banks of a large 
river. Miss Flint and myself agreed to correspond, 
but we could not keep from quarreling, so we quit— I 
had to quit because she quit. 

About this time I secured a government position in 
the town. One warm day a friend and myself went 
to a larger town and we drank some kind of a hot flav- 
ored fluid, which made me feel rich, smart, and — sick. 
When I came home I wabbled in my legs— I was so 
weak, I suppose. I picked up Caleb C. C. and threw 
him up and did not try to catch him, but fortunately 
he fell upon the bed. ^ ‘ Hello, old man ! ” I addressed 
father. ‘ ^ How are you, sir ? ” and fell to the floor. I 
do not remember it very well. They say that the sur- 
prised and grieved household gathered around me and 
that father asked me what ailed me and that I told 
him I had received a sunstroke that day, I supposed. 
I remember having seen mother wiping her eyes and 
hearing father talking very sternly— and then I got 
sicker. Also, they told on me that on the way home I 
got in the buggy with a stranger whom I mistook for 
Miss Flint’s brother-in-law, and that I evacuated the 
secrets of my heart to him (and the contents of my 
stomach in his buggy), and when he denied being her 


138 


The Squash Family. 


relative I wanted to engage him in combat. Anyway, 
because I was a preacher ^s son (I had gone to town 
with the son of a prominent church member), the 
news of ]ny brief but severe illness was widely scat- 
tered. Certainly, I could not deny having been sick, 
and I wished the people to accept the fact and hush. 
But they would not and, as I had reached my majori- 
ty a short time before, I grew impatient with them 
and went to town the next week and got ‘sick ^ again 
—and came back and told everybody I had had a ‘ re- 
lapse \ I blush to speak of my many ‘spells of sick- 
ness’ during the year, but I did not enjoy very good 
“health”. Kurg, too, was “sick” a good deal of the 
time. In fact it was an unhealthy place — to morals. 
Nearly every one seemed to like me, and the “in- 
valids” of the place were in the ascendency, so I con- 
tinued in my station. 

Miss Flint and one of our relatives gave us a visit. 
Sallie had not been at our house two days before I 
fell a victim to heart flirtation as Uncle Peter had 
predicted, and she and I got at a better understand- 
ing than we had ever had. I enjoyed her stay with 
us so much that I had to get a horse and buggy and 
take her home— while Kurg took our kindred. When 
I reluctantly left Sal, we had decided to write to each 
other. We had not corresponded but a short while 
before she learned of my feeble “health”— and we 
quit and I had a bad “attack”. 

Rev. Squash lived two years at Roeque and was 
popular. He had the respect and esteem of the best 
element, but the deportment of Kurg, Os and myself 
was a barrier to his influence and caused his removal. 
A preacher’s family can undo the good work of the 


The Squash Family. 


139 


preacher or add to it, as the behavior of the children 
determine. I mention these regretable facts to show 
that much responsibility rests upon the entire family 
of a preacher. I cannot make any apology for the 
indiscretion of us boys. We did not intentionally 
wish to damage father in his work. It is humiliating 
to confess. Kurg and myself became extremely 
wicked. Kurg was secret in his sins and I was open, 
and fearless. I was an avowed agnostic — a fool ! Os 
was in the broad road also. Martha found a box of 
ammunition and Os was suspected of being the owner 
and was forced to surrender a partnership revolver of 
forty-four calibre, and burn a deck of cards. 

Rev. Squash was sent up the river to the Gladigo 
and Pleasant Stillness Circuit. My health being real- 
ly impaired I went with them — or rather I took a 
steamboat, and they were to come by land. I was 
landed, in the rain and mud at daybreak, at Gladigo 
— a rank stranger, sick and tired. I walked through 
the rain from the wharf to the town. I soon became 
acquainted, but I was too sick to care to know people. 
My folk did not come that day, as I had expected. The 
next day I was too ill to leave the house. The Squash- 
es rolled in that night. There was no parsonage on 
the circuit and we had to rent a house. The parson- 
age at Rocque was furnished and we had to buy 
household furniture at Gladigo — but the stores did 
i^ct have chairs and cooking stoves and the other arti- 
chs they had we would not have. All of the freight 
came by the boats. The merchants were out of gro- 
ceries also. We had moved, but did not own 
either stoves or chairs, except a rocking chair 
we had moved, and we had not brought any- 


140 


The Squash Family, 


thing to eat except meal, sweet potatoes 
and some molasses. Father borrowed an oven and 
mother cooked on the fireplace. We either sat on the 
fioor or stood up. On Sunday all the family except 
myself took dinner with a loyal church official. I 
was sick in bed. If ever I repented it was that day. I 
was sicker than my relatives knew, and there I was 
alone and could not help myself— if there had been 
anything to help myself to. I prayed. I cried. I 
cursed. I laughed. I grew angry. I tried to die. 
I got sorry. I prayed again. At last I resigned my- 
self to my lot, with a vow to be a better boy and live 
a Christian life henceforth. 


The Squash Family. 


141 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

As the Shuttle Flies. 

During the time spent at G-ladigo Rev. Squashes 
term of office was replete with labors. He never 
worked harder. A good deal of neglected territory 
was developed and his own work revived and over- 
hauled. Fifteen consecutive weeks were spent in 
revival effort the first year. The most of the people 
w^ere poor, but ‘‘they heard him gladly.’’ As an in- 
stance of the esteem they held for him, I will give an 
incident that occurred one evening in a revival at one 
of his backwood appointments. They had had a gra- 
cious service and a great victory and had rejoiced un- 
til all were very tired. Just as the preacher was to 
close an old man said, “Don’t close yet. I want to 
lay down fiat of my back on this straw and hear that 
good man pray once more, ’ ’ and he stretched himself 
in the straw, and father offered a prayer. Father 
was gifted in prayer. 

While holding that revival a rattlesnake bit our 
one-eyed horse— “Old Bill”— and the poor brute was 
brought home, with his head swollen the size of a salt 
barrel. In a few days, after intense suffering, he 
departed this life. I am sure tears were in more than 
one member of the family’s eyes. It was like one of 
us dead. We Squashes are attached to every dumb 
brute on the place. Father announced from the pul- 
pit: “My horse is dead. Your old snake bit him,” 
and the people purchased a horse and gave it to him. 
Poor horse! Peace to his ashes! 


142 


The Squash Family, 


Kurg left home and went to Henry Clay, where he 
secured employment. I held my office at Rocque, and 
hired a substitute to do the work for me, while I man- 
aged a drug store, ran a newspaper, and studied and 
practiced medicine. My health was still bad, but I 
had improved in morals a good deal. To tell the truth 
I had been fighting a call to the ministry. I knew 
that if I yielded to impressions and did any church 
work, the harness would be put on me in a short time 
and I would have to preach. I did not want tQ be a 
preacher. I would rather work than ‘‘bawR’. I 
vacillated between duty and desire, first resolving to 
preach and then to be a doctor. I would try to be 
good for a while, but when I was called upon to do 
too much religious work, I would plunge into dissi- 
pation and quit. Finally I became . desperate and 
resolved not to be a preacher and I ^‘did evil before 
the Lord all the days’’ of my residence at Gladigo. 
My health grew w^orse all the time. Malinda Squash 
was taken critically ill, while we were at Gladigo, and 
for several days her life hung in the balance. All 
the family were in despair of her recovery. The best 
medical attention possible was secured but they could 
not offer any hope. Father agonized in prayer night 
and day, walking up and down the gravel walk from 
the gate to the house. 

After weary watching the spark of life flickered, 
rallied— and she recovered. This was the first and 
last serious illness we had in our family up to the 
present time. The Squashes are a hardy set. A few 
months afterward a telegram to father came. It read : 
^^Your father is dead.” Father made the long trip 
to Squashville and buried his father. Before a year 


The Squash Family. 


143 


had passed a dispatch was received, stating that grand 
mother Squash was not expected to live and for father 
to come at once. Father was always devoted to his 
mother and he made all haste to reach her side. She 
was at the home of a married daughter at Henry Clay. 
Father arrived in time to see his mother and receive 
her parting blessing. 

‘^Son, I gave you to the Lord, and I am glad that 
He has used you. Go and hold out faithful and 
secure the crown of righteousness. Meet me in 
heaven and bring all the rest of the family. Tell 
your wife and children to live right and meet me too, ’ ’ 
said the dying mother as she held her feeble, withered 
hands upon his head. 

She died and was buried at Squashville by the side 
of her husband. It rained so much that father was the 
only one who could go with the hearse on the long jour- 
ney from Henry Clay to Squashville. He and the 
driver drove all night and part of the next day. 

One night about this time we could not find Os. A 
neighbor’s boy was absent also. We could glean no 
tidings of the boys. I conjectured that they had gone 
to Rocque to see the races and a telephone message to 
Rocque confirmed the belief. But how had they got- 
ten there, puzzled us. They had no money. They 
had walked! I had to go to Rocque and wanted to 
see the races, so I followed them— but I did not walk. 
I found the boys, footsore and miserable. They were 
from home, but wanting to go home, but fearing to go. 
They were not enjoying themselves. I gave them 
some money, but I could not take them home or con- 
sole them with hope. They were anxious to know the 
fate that awaited them. I told them all I knew was 


144 


The Squash Family, 


that they would have to walk home and would learn 
the rest themselves when they got there. The boys 
reflected long and seriously over the step, but Anally 
saw that “ steps were best— so they made their way 
home. The distance was thirty miles and the road 
seemed twice as long coming back as it had seemed in 
going. There was no fatted calf killed on the prodi- 
gal’s return, but it came very near being a prodigal. 
Os cannot be run oE since that time. Of course Un- 
cle Peter made us a visit. He came alone. We child- 
ren did our best to furnish him a good time. He had 
to see and know everything as usual. He was well 
pleased. Caleb C. C. amused Uncle Peter greatly. 
The first evening after Uncle Peter came Caleb C. C. 
came into the room, holding a yellow, sore-eyed kitten 
by one ear, with one hand and a hunk of bread and 
meat with the other. 

Where heve ye binU’ asked Uncle Peter. 

‘‘A huntin’,’^ said the child between bites. 

‘‘Ketch enything?” 

“Nearly,” laconically came the answer. 

“How near?” 

“Stepped on a rabbit.” 

“Whare at— a foot?” 

“Yep.” 

“Left foot?” 

“Yep.” 

“Left-hand hind foot?” 

“Yep.” 

“Right toe on the left-hand hind foot?” 

“Yep.” 

And the young Squash took the kitten by both ears 
and began to twist them. We older boys called treat- 


The Squash Family, 


145 


ing a cat that way ‘‘spinning wool rolls the noise 
sounds very much like an old spinning wheel. Always 
after that, as long as Uncle Peter tarried with us, he 
would call Caleb C. C. and ask him to play a tune on 
his cat for him. 

Miss Flint and I would write a while and then quit, 
and begin it all over again. A courtship loses the 
most of its fascination when conducted by correspond- 
ence. Go to see the girl and talk to her. I always 
could write my heart better than I could speak it. 
When writing, two are apt to misunderstand each 
other. I got tired of writing, so I went to see her. 
When a man is sincere it is hard to talk love. I drew 
my chair close to Sal— and sat as silent as an oyster 
for an hour. 1 resolved “to do or die.’’ I meant 
business. I had told her I loved her many times, but 
I was not meaning it. But my tongue clave to the 
roof of my mouth and I never was so scared. After 
a struggle I blurted out : ‘ ‘ Sal, I love you. ’ ’ 

She said: “You do not!” 

“Yes, I do, and I want you to marry me if you can 
love me, ’ ’ and I threw my arms about her and kissed 
her rosebud mouth before she could divine my inten- 
tions. She struggled to free herself from my em- 
brace, but I held her and poured every sweet word I 
could think of into her ear. She asked me to release 
her. I refused unless she would kiss me and tell me 
she loved me. She said that she would not do it. 
She did not love me and never would, and for me to 
let her aloose, or she would call her father. I plead 
and argued, and she burst into tears. I let her aloose 
then, for I did not know what to do with her, and 
began making overtures of pardon. She was indeed 


146 


The Squash Family, 


angry, but after much persuasion she relented and 
forgave me. I made another trip to see her and I 
made the speech of my life. She told me when I 
pressed her for an answer that sometimes she thought 
she loved me and again she thought she did not, but 
that if I would leave it to fate for three months, she 
would give me a final answer— if she thought she 
loved me at that time she would marry me. I did not 
want to wait, but I had to. 

We lived at Gladigo two years. The next move we 
made was the longest we had made. It was 175 miles, 
—clear across the state. We shipped our household 
goods by rail and we came by land. We were on the 
road one week. We took our time— and had a pleas- 
ant time, as we had relatives on the route, and we 
stopped and visited them. The roads were fine, the 
weather superb, and the people hospitable. We ar- 
rived safely at Shallot, our new home, without any- 
thing occuring out of the ordinary. 


The Squash Family^. 


147 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Two Soldiers, 

Owing to the valitndinarian state of my health I 
resigned my various positions and embarked with my 
parents for Shallot. I grew steadily worse. I felt 
that it was the hand of the Lord upon me. I knew 
my frailty and my unworthiness. I offered every 
excuse man could make. I was willing to do any sub- 
stitute work possible— but I found no relief. It 
seemed that I would die if I did not heed. I remained 
still in the garden of Gethsemane. 

Kurg came home to spend Yuletide and stayed sev- 
eral weeks with us. He left us and in a few days he 
notified us that he had joined the regular army. He 
was a fine looking man— a stalwart figure, with a 
military bearing— at this time. Kurg^s reports of 
army life fired Os’s heart with patriotism and he 
wanted to go to the defense of his country. It was 
with difficulty that we forestalled him from running 
away. 

My unrest and perturbed feelings became only more 
acute and heavy and at last I cried out : ‘ ' Not my will 
but Thy will be done, let this cup pass from me.” I 
began to do all church work required of me. I lead 
prayer meetings, taught a class in Sunday school, and 
did my duty the best I could in every way. Father 
was gratified at the step I had taken and he was 
anxious for me to make my maiden effort before the 
Tempter could attack me. So accordingly he per- 
suaded me to go to his fartherest appointment. At 


148 


The Squash Family. 


the forenoon appointment, after the sermon, I was 
called upon to lead in prayer. I looked around and 
called upon an old man to pray, which he did. On 
the W’ay to where I was to conduct the services in the 
afternoon, father asked me if I was going to rat on 
him like I had that forenoon. I told him no. There 
was a large crowd present and my heart failed me — 
but I could not retreat. Father was already explain- 
ing to the congregation that they would get to hear a 
young gun fire his first shot. My mind was surging 
and the people floated before my eyes. I did not know 
even where I was, I was so terrified. I felt like 
‘‘Sheepkiller^’ did one day. We boys were in bath- 
ing and he could not swim. Seeing the rest of us 
plunge boldly into the water and gracefully swim 
across the stream, he foolishly jumped in, opened his 
mouth, swallowed all the water he could, and sank. 
Two or three of us went to his rescue and grabbed him 
by the hair of the head as he went under for the last 
time, and dragged him ashore. He was as limber as a 
dishrag and it took some time to resuscitate him. 
When he could speak he said : ‘ H lost my breath, but 
I did not lose my knowin’.’’ 

I remember hearing father saying : ‘ ‘ This is my be- 
loved son in w^hom I am well pleased; hear ye him,^’ 
and sat down and motioned to me to begin. I regained 
my equilibrium to some extent while I opened the 
services, but I felt a premonition of failing. I began 
my introductory remarks by explaining that I was 
there because I had promised father and I did not 
want to break my word, am sorry to disappoint 
such a nice crowd, ’ ’ I continued, ^ ‘ for I am sure you 
came to hear a sermon instead of a first effort. How 


The Squash Family, 


149 


ever I shall try to do my best and I want your prayers 
and attention instead of a critic ^s eye and ear. Do 
not expect to hear a report from a Manser, Krag- Jor- 
genson, Howitzer, or Maxim, but a pop-gun. Of course 
I intend some day to eclipse my father, who consid- 
ers (and is considered by some) himself to be heavy 
artillery. I am just the son of a-a-a— ’’ The con- 
gregation was smiling. I w^as trying to say that I was 
the son of a preacher and ought not to be expected to 
excel him the first trial. Father spake out, ^^You are 
just a son of a gun.^’ The crowd laughed outright — 
and I was embarrassed. I became composed and 
talked on Christian character for half an hour. I am 
still known as the ^‘son-of-a-gun^’ preacher in that 
section. 


150 


The Squash Family, 


CHAPTER XXV. 

A Model School, 

In the summer I went to another state and stood a 
state examination for a teacher certificate. I 
secured it and a school in a remote dis- 
trict or beat, about five miles from home, as we 
lived near the state line. I went from 
home and rode horseback — and had six dilapidated 
gates to open. I had never been where I was to teach 
and I was greatly disappointed the first day. Al- 
though I received the same salary as the other teach- 
ers in the district, I had no school house. I taught in 
an old vacant house, the backbone of which was 
broken and the weather boards off in several places 
and the chimney was half tom down. There was not 
a pane of glass in the windows and never had been. 
The windows were porthole arrangements. The roof 
leaked — I found this out the first time it rained. 
There were neither blackboards nor seats. I had only 
four pupils the first day, seven the next, four the 
next, six the next and four the other two days the 
first week, so seating them was no serious undertak- 
ing. As the studies of the pupils throughout the 
school were not advanced enough to require a black- 
board, we had to buy no chalk. The patrons of the 
school came and put some planks criss-cross on blocks 
of wood and made benches or rather places to sit, in 
one corner of the building. There were no backs to 
the improvised benches and there could be no regular 
places assigned the pupils. A family near-by fur- 


The Squash Family, 


151 


nished a chair for the teacher, a sheep-bell, a tin buck- 
et and a home-made broom for the school. The estab- 
lishment boasted of a dark attic, with rickety steps 
leading thereto, a side room, and the school room. In 
less than three weeks the enrollment was 47, of all 
sizes and kinds— except colored children. There were 
boys larger than myself and some so small that they 
cried all the time. All of them were ragged and mean 
and dirty-faced. Some had the itch and some were 
lousy, and all w^ore a lump of asafoetida around their 
necks (a talisman or amulet against evil spirits, I sup- 
pose) and their toes in slings. Most of the parents 
sent me word not to spare the rod, that if I did they 
would think that I was leaving out the most important 
‘‘branch^’ of the curriculum. There were scarcely 
any two books alike, and I had to have as many classes 
as kinds of boofe. I never saw such an assortment. 
Some of the books were so ancient as to be beyond my 
acquaintance and a few were modern. Many had no 
books and only brought their dinner to school and one 
boy who had never gone to school brought a second 
reader. The course of study ranged from fourth 
reader and speller downward to zero. There never 
was a pedagogue, I will venture to assert, who had 
more to contend with than myself. Hardly any of the 
pupils came regularly and none of the boys were com- 
paratively good. When it rained and the wind blew 
the house stood, for it was built upon a rock— but I 
had to let the pupils either go home or go to a large 
barn hard by. There was really only one small spot 
that kept dry and the teacher took it. I had to rise so 
early that sometimes I was a little late and had no 
time to eat breakfast— I ate my dinner before I got 


152 


The Squash Family. 


to school. The pupils were kind and they gave me 
fruit. One day I took home twenty-three pomegran- 
ates, six cymlins and a fine peach, a watermelon, and 
a sackful of roasting ears. The boys used tobacco, 
and a sturdy youth of six did not hesitate to ask the 
teacher ‘'for a chaw of thet sweet ’backer^’. Often 
the teacher ^s tobacco gave out and he asked the boys 
for tobacco, but the home-grown weed was almost too 
stout to be endured. Teacher and pupils chewed dur- 
ing “books’’ if they wanted to. As there were plenty 
of cracks in the fioor and walls the spittle did not 
bother. I did not want to whip anyone and I put long 
switches over the mantel to be a warning. The boys 
forced me to use them. I chastised lightly at first, 
but I soon learned that they bragged about it, and I 
got as severe or more so than they expected— which 
all seemed to enjoy except the ragamuffins who re- 
ceived it. My duties being many and onerous often I 
did not have time to give “a guilty wretch” his just 
deserts and I had to resort to other means of punish- 
ment to expedite business or give wholesale castiga- 
tion, which sometimes fell upon innocent parties as I 
would take a bench at a time. I put boys to stand 
upon one foot or to sit upon the fioor with outstretch- 
ed legs. Again, I would put a boy up in the attic with 
the darkness, gloom, bugs and rats. I am proud to 
say that I never had to reprove the girls. One day I 
put a tatterdemalion in the attic and forgot him and 
kept him there nearly all day. He was nearsighted ; I 
saw him holding a book over his face while reciting 
and I thought that he was laughing. I told him to take 
the book away from his face, but he put it back every 
time to keep up with the lesson. I grew impatient at 


The Squash Family, 


153 


his disobedience and put him in the attic. When I 
learned my error I apologized and treated him better 
than he deserved for a month. But he got obstreper- 
ous and I flaggelated him until he remembers me I 
have no doubt until this good day. I joined the 
games and we had jolly times. They soon learned 
that if they behaved and had good lessons that I 
would indulge them in longer play times. I gave 
them the benefit of what I knew by tell- 
ing them little bits of history, geography, 
and other things, and asking them local ques- 
tions. A deep interest was made and many began to 
thirst and hunger for knowledge. Who knows but 
that those lessons were stepping stones to a brilliant 
career. One day a little fellow came in looking like a 
drowned rat. I saw him shivering and I approached 
him. He lisped and he did not want to tell me the 
trouble. I coaxed and threatened and he said : ‘ ‘ The 
bhoys thed they whould ghive me a dhime if Hi 
whouuld whade the chreek and Hi dhid. ’ ’ 

^^Give me the dime,^’ I said authoritatively. 

Hi ’ll not do hit. Hi phear Hi ’ll swallow hit 
f hirst,” and he put the coin into his mouth. I quit 
him, after lecturing him until the tears dampened his 
collar. I punished the boys who had inveigled him 
into the scrape. 

Sometimes at noon I would lay beneath the shade 
of a tail elm and go to sleep while the pupils warn 
dered in play. Very often when I awoke there was 
not a child within calling distance and it was half 
past two o’clock. I would ring the sheep bell or 
halloo, and if they came not I would catch my horse 
and hunt them. The school was of three months dura- 


154 


The Squash Family, 


tion and its close was like its beginning— tapering. 
A few weeks before the term was out fodder pulling 
and cotton picking depleted the ranks to a corporates 
guard— and they were victims of agues. I have seen 
three or four at a time with chattering teeth and burn- 
ing brows, shake my little dwelling almost from its 
foundations. The last day of school there were eight 
pupils. I carried them two boxes of stick candy and 
bade them help themselves. It was a treat to both of 
us— for I enjoyed seeing the children eat the candy. I 
told them to tear the house down that day- and it 
came very near being done. I will never forget that 
school, although I have never been back there and I 
do not know how my pupils have turned out. Where- 
ever they may be I remember them and say God bless 
them. 


The Squash Family. 


155 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

The Baven^s Croak. 

Fate is fickle. She is apt to deceive you. You are 
given a serpent instead of a fish more often than you 
get what you desire. She is unreliable. Sallie Flint 
at the expiration of three months wanted three months 
more. I took it that she was in love with me and I 
granted her request. I went to see her many times 
during the probation. I am confident that she loved 
me, but her folk objected to me so strenuously and 
my health was so poor, she was forced to refuse me. 
Those short months were blissful. Yet we did not 
always agree. When the alloted time had passed to 
the pales of age I commanded her to answer— and she 
answered. She began prefacing her reply with regrets 
and I read but a line or two before I knew my doom — 
and threw the letter aside. I afterwards perused its 
contents. It was a sensible, friendly, tender epistle. 
Fate decreed that Sallie Flint and myself should go 
separate paths. I fell into reveries by day and dreams 
by night. I worried and pined until I became unwell. 
Often I sat with her photograph in view and looked 
at her imaged face and wished I was with her. The 
last time I saw her she was so sad and confused that I 
felt that I was the cause of it. I could not keep 
thoughts of death from stealing into my mind. Death ! 
That king of terrors, who separates us forever in 
human life from our loved ones, who gives the aching 
brow and troubled heart relief and repose. In my 
sorrow I dreamed that death had robbed me of my 


156 


The Squash Family, 


treasure; that he had snapped the brittle thread of 
life and released the beautiful soul of her to return to 
her Maker, and left me alone— alone and sad! I 
wanted to die too, to join in paradise that dearest heart 
and live eternally, two loving hearts. Merciful God 1 
I had longed and prayed that some heaven on earth 
would be mine, that her and my destinies would be 
united. Thou black-visaged monster 1 why did thy icy 
fingers clutch her soft, tender throat ! Stay 1 I will 
not give her to you. Stand back, I say, and let her 
alone 1 Thou art an awful, powerful black-souled 
demon, but I dread thee not. I fear thee not. Do 
not touch her. She is mine. Worms and corruption 
shall not lay hands on her. She is too pure. I chal- 
lenge you by the eternal love of my heart to dare 
approach her. God gave her to me. The grave, cold, 
clammy sod, that dark, frightful, gloomy receptacle 
of the dead — mother earth— for her, to embrace her 
silent form 1 No ! No I My arms shall clasp her to 
my breast and there shall her fair head rest. I shall 
kiss her sweet lips, her kind eyes, her pure brow, and 
her dear face— not you ! She shall be warm flesh, liv- 
ing and loving, for she is not yours! My bride-elect 
was not dead. It was but a dream. But she was lost 
to me. My mind was filled with miserable thoughts. 
My heart was full of unwritten letters of love. All 
was in the past. Ah, the past ! It loomed up in 
memory like a station-house, all the trains of the past 
rolled by and I sat and view^ed them. Some were 
freighted with cares. Others with troubles. Some 
had gleeful childhood’s days of mirth and pleasure, 
but nearly all had thoughts of pain and torture. I 
never was quite free of them. It takes the black coal 


The Squash Family. 


157 


and fire to produce the energy to carry the train. 
And one train especially attracted my attention. It 
was the past few months, with all its dreams and 
hopes and changes. Part of it was the happiest por- 
tion of my life. I spent it with her. Time was fleet. 
But that train was wrecked. From a high precipice 
it fell— and it was at the station the last time, ruined 
and wrecked. It was running smoothly. The en- 
gineer hoped to carry it safely and he stood bravely 
at his post. It traveled through a beautiful country 
— through the land of love and dreams. It was a 
bright day. Flowers were on every hand. The sky 
was blue. The air was pure. It glided over that 
trestle and an unsafe bridge or two. Then darkness 
and curves and tunnels. Now and then a stretch of 
beautiful landscape— of hope and dreams of happi- 
ness. The engineer's heart hoped against hope. 
Ahead was a fearful trestle over a yawning abyss. 
Could he safely cross? He raised his heart in prayer 
and put his hand trustingly upon the throttle. On, 
on the engine rushed. The worst was passed. Would 
he cross? Thank God, he had— no! No— a derailed 
track plunged the faithful iron horse into destruction 
and demolished all the cars and mangled the pas- 
sengers. And at the union depot the train now stands, 
never again to run a trip. Its engine is panting, 
trembling, bruised, and scarred. Its coaches are bat- 
tered, twisted, and disabled. Some of them are beyond 
recognition — a tangled mass of wheels, rods, and wood 
work. The future looked dark and stormy. The 
lights put out were extinguished by the wind. The 
dove sent forth returned without an olive leaf. The 
elements were too terrible for it to live outside. The 


158 


The Squash Family, 


heavens were covered with inky darkness— a veritable 
Erebus. The sun and moon were hidden and not a 
single star shed its ray above the horizon bar. My 
frail barque was at sea without a rudder. The thun- 
der rolled. The fierce flashes of lightning gleamed in 
vengeance. The waves tossed high and wild. I was 
hurled madly in the maelstrom. Would I find the 
strong current and Providence guide me to the haven 
of rest ? Or would I go down into the murky waters 
and be shattered^ It was too late. No hope! But 
somewhere out in space God would stretch forth His 
hand and say, peace be still.’’ After awhile the 
shipwrecked servant hopes to rest in His bosom. All 
trials, sorrows, tribulations, troubles, pain, woe and 
misery will end— will end in death, yes, sweet relief. 
No more disappointments, unhappiness, shadows. All 
light— radiant, glorious light ! There— pure and free 
and happy! Angel’s songs the ear to greet! Saints’ 
praise to attend the heart! Hosannas to burst forth 
in loud acclaim ! The King and Lord to meet ! Was it 
fate that decreed such suffering ? I know not. 

Gradually the memory and love of Sallie Flint 
passed away as earth’s blooming flowers. Other 
attractions began tugging at my heartstrings. How- 
ever, I shall not insert any more of my experience 
with the lovely and fair, in this history. Perhaps, I 
have said too much already. Yet I may not have said 
enough. There seems to be an unseen hand which 
shapes our destinies. Whether it is fate or luck I 
know not. Miss Flint left her decision in the hands 
of fate— and fate said ‘^no more!” I suppose it was 
best— anyway I accepted her answer as final. There 
has not appeared a star of hope in the sky of life. 


The Squash Family, 


159 


from her since. I took my medicine like a good In- 
dian. When a hoy I had to take many a dose of 
castor oil or sulphur that tasted worse than this, but 
it did not last as long. I have looked over the past, 
it is true, and thought what it would have been had 
her answer been ^‘yes’’ instead of ‘‘no’’. I have re- 
ceived many “noes” since then and a “yes” or two, 
but I remain in the “wanting” column and am still 
looking for the right girl. As Uncle Peter says in 
giving his religious experience, “Ef I don’t git thare 
at the eleventh hour I hope I’ll git thare the twelfth. 
Ef I don’t git thare at all it won’t be my fault.” 


160 


The Squash Family, 


CHAPTEE XXVII. 

The Pursuit of Happiness, 

Throughout my life I have had a strange aptitude 
for catching things or it seems that I inevitably am 
unfortunate in contracting them. I have contracted 
everything almost from debt to the seven-year itch 
and sometime the contagion has been duplicated and 
tripled, especially in the first and last named. I have 
had the whooping cough, measles, rheumatism, gout, 
agues, and infectious diseases ad infinitum. The dis- 
ease commonly known as love played havoc with me. 
It seems that I always was extremely susceptible to its 
ravages. But it and sarcoptes scabei made interest- 
ing and unexplainable pleasure with a Shoelish tinge. 
The inextricable meshes of Cupid’s net with 10,000 
additional necessary and incidental effects makes a 
fellow very sick. Happiness has been my zealous 
quest since I knew life. In boyhood’s flaunting days 
I unconsciously sought its end. I chased the elusive 
butterfly, angled for the wary trout in the mountain 
streams, covertly took watermelons, tied tin cans to 
dog’s tails, played truant at home and school, and ate 
green apples— but happiness was always just beyond, 
in the to-morrow (and the morrow generally brought 
forth sundry pains, penalties for hygienic, civil, par- 
ental and general disobedience). I redoubled my en- 
ergies and plied my time to the search until sick or 
weary I digressed until recuperated— to begin again. 
In youth I sought it, strove for it, yearned for it— it 
was still ahead. I composed maudlin ditties for silly 


The Squash Family. 


161 


school girls, whispered sweet lies into attentive ears, 
won my ‘ ‘ puppy love, ^ ^ but it was not there. Where 
does happiness dwell ! In earth, in sky, in heaven, in 
hell? Not in earth— oh, no ! It is naught there but a 
fleeting shadow, a transient dream, a silver echo, a 
kiss wafted from an houri^s finger tips, a breath of a 
water nymph, a bud but not a flower, a smile not a 
kiss, a ‘ ‘ sweet to the taste and bitter to the stomach. ’ ’ 
Not in sky for it is variable, vacillating, evanescent. 
We look to it with, hope, but the showers of blessings 
ne ^er fall. Its charming notes allure us. Its exquisite 
perfume deceives us. Its radiant, scintillating sheen 
blinds us. Its coquetish smile ensnares us. In heaven ? 
Ah! I am not there. Oh, happiness here! In hell? 
In Tophet, where legion devils, fiends incarnate, dwell ! 
Impossible ! But where ? Ah, where ! To be in love 
madly, soulfully, with no prospects of reciprocation, 
or, if that, no chance to plight your troth at the hy- 
meneal altar, because of a lack of competence or what- 
ever cause is a lamentable predicament. Love ever 
seemed to be the limit, the end of my rainbow-happi- 
ness. In its bourne was my surcease of aching heart. 
Perhaps it is! Love is blissful— and miserable. It 
is the acme of this life’s component pleasures. 0, 
Love intoxicant ! It causes you to forget cares, obsta- 
cles, sorrows, friend, kin— all ! But how like Bourbon 
rye ! It is a delight to quaff the pleasantly flavored 
beverage. What a titilation to the palate! What a 
thrill and ecstacy to the being ! Its soothing influence 
renders us unconsciously rapturous, exhilirated. The 
after effects— how like love! Seasickness is mockery 
in comparison. The epigastric region becomes a tu- 
multous, rebelling centre. The world gyrates and the 


162 


The Squash Family, 


heavens whirl. Our feet pass from out under us and 
we lie— a remnant of sturdy manhood, in desuetude, 
ready to deliver soul and body to the sovereign of the 
infernal domain! Queasy, disgusted, nauseated, 
weak, mean we are ! Oh, like love, I say ! Pull of 
hope, life, ambition, expectant happiness! Glad 
hearts and willing hands— future life a path of roses, 
a happy home and a lovely family. We hold the ten- 
der hands, look into the dear eyes, kiss the sweet lips, 
sit by the side of the adorable creature, and contem- 
plate the happy days to come— they come not often, 
alas! (or, perhaps, best). We linger in jubilant 
thought and imagination. Our sun rises brightly— 
no cloud obstructs the horizon. The whole world is 
love. The tide turns. There is many a slip betwixt 
cup and lip. Expectation becomes anxiety; hope, 
despair. The signs are first one way and then the 
other. You cannot tell which way your boat is veer- 
ing. You are drifting upon the billows. Now, in the 
breakers. Then, near the treacherous shoals. Now, 
upon the rocks. Then, under the waves. You are in 
love— you are in the lake of brimstone and sulphur. 
Yon are happy but miserable. With the addition of 
force of circumstances— irascible parents, adverse 
fortune and dire handicaps against you— you will be 
stranded upon the beach. Life will become ignoble, 
useless, undesired, if there is no aim. We must have 
a buoy. We must have help. We need to be directed, 
guarded, coaxed, petted. We like the subtle atmos- 
phere of where there is a woman. Without love men 
degenerate. We think less of others. We become 
bestial. But would you, an honest man, supposing 
you were not competent to start married life as you 


The Squash Family, 


163 


should or would like, wish to ask a woman to share 
starvation or at least a state of abject penury or hard 
livelihood? No. You are too honest to propose just 
to give her a matrimonial chance. You say take a 
better chance. Some of the greatest successes began 
without much of a start. We cannot tell the caprices 
of fortune. The defeat of to-day is the victory of 
to-morrow and the smiles of to-day are the groans of 
to-morrow. You love. Time drags on. The prob- 
lem remains unsolved. You still love and wait. Why 
does not Cupid solve his own problems? Why does 
he affect and not effect? Why does he impart a cruel 
flame and add fuel instead of satiation? Sometimes 
when one wins his love— after the nuptials are tied — 
there is an aftermath which furnishes one with a pos- 
session of an area of sulphurous climate and country 
—all his own! Who can tell? Who knows? We 
cannot determine our own happiness and our own 
destiny, when it is a personal satisfaction we seek and 
fond dreams we would have come to pass. 


164 


The Squash Family. 


CHAPTEE XXVIII. 

The Glass We See Through. 

There has flown across memory quite a number of 
girls and women I have known in the past since I 
began this history. The remembrance of some is 
pleasant, of others sad, of a few bitter hatred. I have 
been as a woman to know woman, to love her. I have 
been a man to be her slave, obey the veriest sway of 
her sceptre. When I ceased to be as a woman she 
became not as she is and while I was as a woman she 
became not as she was. While I was her slave she 
was a proud mistress, who domineers and who did 
not return affection. Women — they held my heart, 
but they crushed it. They lead me, but it was driv- 
ing me as the devil cunningly leads his deluded vic- 
tims. I did to their pleasure through love. They 
enjoyed themselves even as they did the work of a 
horse with no other feeling than, ‘ ‘ Poor, good horse ! ’ ’ 
I loved them even as the dog loves his master, and 
eats of the crumbs from the table, where his master 
eats of the fatness of the land. I loved and admired 
them as the poor brute that feels the caressing of an 
unsympathetic hand.’* Their caresses are but play- 
ings of pettings, cajoling me to obedience to inane 
desires and sweet bits of folly and coaxing to their 
content, which gratifled, surfeits my reward. I surely 
have been foolish or else deluded, yet have I not trod- 
den the path of all men ! What has been my recom- 
pense ? - Where is the benison ^ What has been the 
redoundment of their spoiled sovereignship ? When 


The Squash Family. 


165 


shall my eager desires and flaming void of heart have 
a satiation and be an entity? Have I not been a 
horse to the rider and a beast at the mill, a bestial 
prisoner to the ream, and a drawer of water at the 
well and a hewer of wood, to the fair sex ? The prize 
has been a surprise, longing eyes are just long- 
ing still. The shining skies have lost their flecks of 
blue and the stars their sheen of effulgence, and the 
heart its throbbing of expectancy and ecstacy! I 
gave them my best— my admiration and my love, my 
power, my strength, my chattels and my increase. I 
nursed their vanity and cradled their pride. They 
crooned at my cupidity and cooed at my credulity. 
They gave me smiles — aye, smiles as false as they 
were fatal ; as subtile as they were impotent. Smiles 
of a serpent— flits of a pleased soul’s pompacity. 
They gave me words, sugar-coated draughts, as soft 
as their hands— as valueless— as deceitful as the ides 
of March. They gave me their jewelled hands to 
clasp, to hold, to press— but had they not been pressed 
by others and by bands of gold, and had I not have 
pressed my own for the aught I received ! They gave 
me their cheeks to fondle and coddle over and prate 
maudlin, mawkish sentiment about. But what did I 
gain ! A transient pastime and a fleeting joy. I 
kissed them, but had not the winds done the same! 
They loaned me their lips, but they gave me not their 
self, their soul, their love, their value, that which I 
sought and coveted and wished in exchange for my- 
self. I had bartered my love and sold my manhood’s 
flower for a moment’s passion— I had nothing 1 Some 
gave me nothing — not even a brush of a bee’s wdng” 
or a sparkling dewdrop from their rosy lips. Not 


166 


The Squash Family, 


even that which they could not miss for the abund- 
ance in store— not a single clasp, embrace, or return 
heart-beat. For these I toiled on, redoubled my la- 
bors and increased my fidelity and courtesy, thinking 
the greater their worth and firmer their estimate. I 
did not win. I stood beneath the vernal bowers of 
Edenland and saw the first pair. There stood man in 
all his pristine majesty and constancy, his fidelity and 
his dignity. There stood woman, ensnaring, cunning, 
tempting, holding the forbidden fruit in her hands, 
offering it to man. Succumbing to her wiles and en- 
chantments, her pleadings and her entreaties, I saw 
man partake— and poor, weak man! No— he suffered 
the curse because his great love could not bear to see 
her doomed alone, and it lead him to die with her— 
even in death he sacrificed upon the altar of love his 
life to abide by her in weal or woe. I stood upon 
the dizzy heights of Mt. Ararat and viewed the arid 
plains below. Again were man and woman. She 
said go and he went ; she said come and he came. 

I stood upon the field of a carnage and saw a thous- 
and mangled limbs quivering in their great agony — 
bloody stubs of arms and legs and headless trunks! 
Blood and gore ran in crimson streamlets and soaked 
the ground. Wreck and ruin, fire, smoke, bursting 
shrapnel and flying grape, everywhere. Groans, 
shrieks, anguish, pain, torture, curses, shouts, com- 
mands, regrets, prayers and farewells above and com- 
mingled with the din and turmoil of the* bitter, an- 
gered fray. Bullets, blood, destruction, hell, fill the 
air. The clarion note and bugle blast pierce the thun- 
der-laden atmosphere, call men on to duty and to 
death, stimulating and inspiring. I saw brave men 


The Squash Family. 


167 


fall and brave men march on, facing the jaws of 
death and hand to hand bearding the enemy in the con- 
flict. Courage and bravery were in demand and the 
gallant few reserved their intrepidation. A hero fell, 
pierced through the heart by a cruel bullet. In his 
last gasp he pressed to his colorless lips the portrait 
of a woman— his lover. Even in death he bowed at 
her shrine and paid her abeyance. In a brilliantly 
lighted room, the self-same hour I saw the woman, 
whose image the dying soldier kissed, plight her troth 
to another. 

I saw a weakling to woman’s charms, a manly form, 
skulk away from the battlefield, where his presence 
was needed and his country called, to meet a woman— 
his lover. He left behind his honor and courage, to 
meet her— the woman who held him at her command. 
I saw her perfidy, how she betrayed him— gave him 
into the hands of his enemies. Are all women false? 
Are all deceitful? God forbid and save us! Are 
women angels? Is any man worthy of one? No. 
Angels have not faults and heartless hearts. Woman, 
in thy domain have they no standard of the heart ? Is 
the steed riderless, to run rampant, to have liberty at 
will? Is there no decree to bind one to another in 
moro than promise? One moment thou art a noble, 
lovable sovereign, and I, your humble subject, kneel a 
happy man at your feet. Then, thou frownest and I 
shrink in despair. Forlorn and desolate I am. Then 
morbid thoughts, rancor of desperation, pangs of 
heart drive me mad. Rational I am— not mad I Sane 
—not frenzied! Grieved and hurt— not crazed! I 
turn— I change to have my revenge but I canst not, 
durst not. Thy beauty and thy eyes, thy face and 


168 


The Squash Family, 


thy charms forbid. I admire and admiration is 
stronger than any hatred my heart couldst foster. My 
solace hast been my tears, but the fountain is dry ! I 
weep not again or find relief in tearless sobs. The 
heart aches and tires. Wouldst I be a man to resist 
thy attraction. Yet I love to no benefit. I love thee 
but I say— I wish I did not. 


The Squash Family, 


169 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Away from Home, 

I was recommended by the district conference 
which gave me license, for admission on trial into the 
Jerusalem annual conference. At the annual session 
I passed an approved examination and was appointed 
to a mission work, over a hundred miles from home. 
The work was a new one, formed of churches from 
two charges, and I followed two veteran circuit riders. 
Having been a minister’s son and acquainted with the 
work for fifteen years, I knew something of a preach- 
er ’s life, but actual contact with the duties soon 
taught :ne that I had viewed the land from the moun- 
tain lop. 

Leaving home and mother was one of the hardest 
trials of my life. Tears streamed from all of our eyes. I 
called the family together and had a word of prayer 
and I silently started on my journey. 1 went in a 
buggy and stopped with preachers on the way. Every 
one vras kind and encouraging toward me. When I 
was fifteen miles of my destination my horse became 
lame. I drove to a blacksmith’s shop and asked the 
price of a horse shoe. It was a quarter of a dollar— 
the exact amount of my money. I asked the smith if 
he could tack on an old shoe for less. He said, yes. 
He asked me then if I was not a preacher and if I had 
not attended the conference held the week before. I 
answered in the affirmative. He said : ‘^1 remember 
seeing you, and, brother, let me give you a new shoe.” 
He invited me home with him, but I thanked him and 


170 


The Squash Family. 


drove on. I had spent all my money for a buggy, 
clothing, books, and expenses of my trip— so I arrived 
on my work with no money. My trials and struggles 
were similar to those of my father, which I have al- 
ready enumerated. The people of the charge I served 
were my friends in the main and they gave me a sin- 
cere welcome and accorded me kindness and cor- 
diality so long as I remained with them. I had never 
been away from home — and now I had no home. The 
home of others was my home. I visited but the peo- 
ple kept me up too late of nights. It was only one 
night with them, but every night with me. I decided 
to board, but boarding did not suit me. I never 
longed for home so much as I did the first few weeks 
of my pastorate— no place truly on earth was so sweet 
to me! It seemed that I would die if I remained 
away from home longer. Satan tempted me as no one 
can imagine. I felt unequal for the work and unfit 
to be a ‘‘chosen vessel.^’ If I had not gotten into the 
work right away I would have yielded. I entered 
upon the discharge of my duties with a zest born of 
desperation. I visited the homes of the lowly who 
had not been visited in years by a preacher. I went 
to see the sick and sat up with the dead, preached fun- 
erals, and sought the lost and fallen during the week 
and preached twice each Sunday. The good house- 
wives will make extra preparations when a preacher 
is around, and if he will not eat some of all they cook, 
they will think that he does not appreciate their hos- 
pitality. I ate often when I did not care to and more 
than I wished. I was overwhelmed with invitations 
and I was pressed for time to get around. I believe 
that every tribulation in the land was poured into my 


The Squash Family. 


171 


ears. I found myself the confidante of factions. I 
was advised by both sides. Nearly every one wanted 
to tell me what to do and how to do it. And children ! 
I thought I knew how to hold my own with them. I 
dearly like children when they are nice and neat — 
but deliver me ! ‘ I had to quit wearing my best 
clothes to keep the children from spoiling them. They 
were too affectionate. One day I stopped at a home 
where there were two small children. I gave them an 
apple apiece. They ate them and asked for more. I 
gave them a couple. They wanted more. I evaded 
their questions, but presently I felt a hand in my 
pocket. I said nothing. The other child cried and I 
gave it an apple. The rogue asked for one and I 
refused. He struck me with a stick. His mother 
laughed at him. The other slipped behind me and 
hit me in the back. I slapped him and the mother 
became angry. I had a supply of nice apples some 
one had given me to take home— but I never had any 
when I came home. On that work the most of the 
children were unclean and too friendly. If I noticed 
one the least (and a preacher has to notice the child- 
ren) he was all over me and in every pocket. Some- 
times they would be eating bread and molasses. They 
asked me thousands of questions. And dogs! I got 
acquainted with several hundred of all degrees— 
mongrel, whelp, curs, hounds, mastiffs, bull dogs. The 
dogs were too friendly also — but there were excep- 
tions. Some were very savage. No one has any idea 
of the number and kind of dogs until he begins to 
visit house to house in a community. I soon learned 
to judge the people by their dogs. If a dog met me 
at the gate and began to fawn and play I knew child- 


172 


The Squash Family, 


ren were at that home and that denoted welcome. If 
the dog Avas shy and abashed and slunk from me, it 
was evidence that an old maid was on the place. I 
had not been a pastor over three months before my 
health broke down and I was forced to quit. Of my- 
self I will not speak further. So, good-bye— Joab 
Squash, 


The Squash Family, 


173 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Sequelae, 

Rev. Squash was at Shallot two years and moved 
from that place to the Cowslip Circuit. This is all I 
intend telling of him and his career. All of his ap- 
pointments and disappointments so far has been a 
mission and circuits. He dreams of being a presiding 
elder in time— but I doubt whether he will ever roll 
that high or not. Of the duties of a station preacher, 
a presiding elder or a bishop I know nothing, except 
what I have heard. I have seen a few specimens, but 
of their habits I am ignorant. Their work is some- 
what different because the problems are different. I 
have presented the work of an average circuit rider. 
I have given enough of the career of one preacher and 
his family to show some view^s of their lives and work. 
Some of the scenes perhaps have never been depicted 
before. I suppose not a few are unacquainted wdth 
the homelife and family of preachers. The main idea I 
have striven to convey is how God will bless those who 
put their case in His hands and trust and follow Him, 
to do His will. Look at the impediments which con- 
fronted Rev. Squash— his humble origin, his few op- 
portunities and advantages, his meagre circumstances, 
being handicapped with a family— he had been mar- 
ried nearly all his life— and being thirty-four years 
of age before he started. He never rose to promi- 
nence it is true, but God blessed him and he overcame 
all difficulties and did, and is doing, a great amount 
of good. He is still in the active work. Although 


174 


The Squash Family. 


his hail" is streaked with gray and is becoming thin 
he remains young. 

Mother is still at his side— a faithful wife and help- 
mate. The dilBcult position of a preacher’s wife she 
never tried to fill to please the people, but as she 
thought was her duty, and her time permitted, sh^ 
did her part in the great work. 

Kurg is till in the army and also in love with some 
girl he left behind. 

Os is a grown-up young man, who shaves and 
spruces and goes courting. 

Martha is a young lady, smiling and looking sweetly 
at the boys. 

Malinda and Caleb C. C. are enjoying the happy 
days of childhood. 

Uncle Peter and Aunt Jemima are spending their 
last days in retired contentment. The last time I 
heard of them Uncle Peter had purchased a fifty-cent 
padlock to go on the crib door — and the door was 
hung with leather hinges. 

I have lost sight of Dooks. He is out of sight upon 
the ladder of fame. The last time I heard of him he 
had married the widow of a Methodist preacher, and 
had joined the blue-stocking Presbyterian Church— 
they pay their preachers more than the Methodist do. 

‘‘Daddy” joined the army and has disappeared 
from the haunts that once knew him. 

“ Sheepkiller ” got into some mischief and left the 
country— a fugitive from justice. 

Skinner Knott joined the army and made a fine 
soldier. 

Corner Squiques is at Henry Clay— still a scrub 
farmer. 


The Squash Family, 


175 


Sallie Flint is still single. I am too. I have often 
wondered if fate did right about our love affair. 

And I am writing the history of the Squash family 
—and I am going to finish it. Whether I have writ- 
ten a complete history or a well-written history or a 
satisfactory history or even a history, or not, I have 
written all the history I ever intend to. I have tried 
to do my duty as a historian and if I have failed, I 
have failed, and that ends it— history and all. 

JOAB SQUASH, Historian. 




rMi 


PRIVATE EDITION 

3Famil^ 

OR A HISTORY OF A METHODIST 
PREACHER AND HIS FAMILY 

BY 

MAJOR TOM NOODLE 

frtr?, fflrnta 

ADDRESS ALL ORDERS TO 

W. THOMAS CARDEN 

PULASKI, TENN. 






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